


The Backwaters

by SunflowerSpectre



Series: Works of 2020 [3]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Mildly Dubious Consent, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22386667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSpectre/pseuds/SunflowerSpectre
Summary: As an agent of SHIELD, Shuri’s assignment is to find and rescue Wanda Maximoff who disappeared in the backwaters of West Virginia. But her training is put to the test when the town’s mechanic Bucky takes a liking to her. Aged up! Shuri
Series: Works of 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1611430
Comments: 19
Kudos: 31





	1. The Debrief

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gifted piece - asked for by someone else.  
> Mature to mildly explicit - one scene of smut in later chapters; this is the only scene where there is mildly dubious consent (and this only applies very loosely); there will be a warning beforehand

Shuri takes pride in her success rate, the ease and grace she gets things taken care easily makes her one of the top agents within SHIELD. It took nothing short of hard work to be where she is now and it has been anything but an easy career path. She still feels that blossom of pride and smugness in her chest at proving all the naysayers wrong and she can only imagine what her mother must really think of her profession. 

But the truth is, she _loves_ her job. She thrives off the way the adrenaline tastes in her veins and how good it feels to get to punch the bad guys. She enjoys how well it tests her strength - both mental and physical. The physical challenges are always fun, but it’s the mental ones that really _test_ her and push her to her limits in all the best ways. 

Returning from yet another mission well done, Shuri makes her way through the base with a stride in her step. The adrenaline is steadily starting to wear off, but the pride in a job well done is still strong within her as her head is held high and her shoulders pulled back. The tech agents are quick to move out of her way, as if they’re afraid to run into her, but she offers them a comforting smile that is hesitantly returned back.

“Shuri, Fury wants you. Now.”

Agent Hill matches Shuri’s confident posture as she meets Shuri’s gaze evenly. Shuri just gives her an easy-going grin as she laughs, patting Agent Hill on the shoulder as she passes her.

“Never a day’s rest is there? Suppose I’ll have to postpone that vacation then.”

Shuri winks, causing Hill to roll her eyes as she ushers Shuri to get past her and hurry along before ‘Fury throws a tantrum.’ Shuri just laughs, making an obscure comment that there's never a moment that Fury _isn’t_ having a tantrum of some sorts.

* * *

Shuri can feel the somber energy within the meeting room the moment that she walks in. The silence is almost deafening, making her swallow as her heart picks up a bit and an unsettling feeling sits in her gut. She knows from experience that when the mood is like this, it’s never good news. 

She prepares herself for the worst as she sits down wordlessly beside Coulson, the only other agent in the room aside from Fury, who stands at attention at the head of the table. 

“Did someone die,” Shuri whispers, leaning into Coulson.

His expression is a bit tight, restrained, as if he’s trying his best to not let it show just how _down_ he is.

“Not yet.”

His answer does not ignite a lot of comfort, causing her to make a face as she leans back into her seat to focus on Fury. Fury’s expression is harder to read, it usually is when he is making any face that it is not his ‘resting bitch face.’ But it is very clear that she should expect to hear the absolute worse.

“A month.” Fury states blankly, his eyes looking straight ahead, not meeting their gaze. “That’s how long that Wanda Maximoff has been missing and I’m not sure what pisses me off more, the fact that she’s been missing or the fact that her parents are only just now breathing down my neck about it, after four _fucking_ weeks of her being gone.”

Fury slams his hands down on the table in anger, but neither of the agents jump nor are concerned with it. Shuri focuses, instead, on the name that Fury gave. _Wanda Maximoff._ The name is familiar, vaguely, and it takes a moment for Shuri to place it and even longer to place a face to the name. It hits her like a truck when she remembers the plucky, wide-eyed and eager girl. Daughter of some higher up or another, if she remembers right and she’s sure that she is since her parents must have some pretty good leeway to get Fury on top of it.

She was nice, Shuri remembers, talkative and fairly bright. She reminded Shuri of herself, before she became a SHIELD agent. Optimistic, having a wanderlust to see the world and kick ass. But Wanda, if Shuri is remembering right, _did_ want to be an agent. 

To hear that Wanda is missing causes Shuri’s stomach to turn. After remembering her face, Shuri can easily place each time that they talked - over coffee, in the training area. Shuri taught her the proper way to throw a punch. Wanda talked about wanting to be an agent, but her parents disapproving of her being ‘in on the action.’ Something that Shuri, herself, can relate to. But the conversation that sticks out the most is them talking just over a month ago, right before Shuri had left for her latest mission.

Wanda had spoke about finally getting out to see the world, wanting to explore it for herself without her parents hovering over her. Shuri was hesitant, understanding where Wanda is coming from, but knowing how naive Wanda could be to the world despite her parents’ position.

But Wanda had laughed it off as being a _‘piece of cake’_ and mentioned some off-hand comment about it just being about going as off grid as she could while still somewhat updating her folks along the way. She had been filled with a determination that was hard for Shuri to argue with.

The idea that Wanda should have been coming home at the same time as Shuri, if not even sooner, sickens her. Most of those teenage-like espcades rarely last long, with many coming back to their parents fairly soon. Even she expected Wanda to come back home before she did, with stories about ‘the world’ and maybe a less naive outlook on it.

There is an almost guilt ridden turn in her stomach as she realizes the unfairness of only her coming home instead of Wanda. She almost wishes that she was one of those agents who were a bit more realistic on only the strong and skilled surviving. The ones that don’t pay too much attention to civilian casualties. The ones who try their best, but don’t dwell on the ones that they fail to save. But to Shuri, that is one of the core goals of being an agent. Saving the world means saving as many people as you could and mourning every single one that you miss, engraving their names into your heart and holding on to it as a reminder to be better.

“Her parents, being the overprotective pain in my ass that they are, had a tracker placed in her car. But shortly after she decided to go out on this _see the world_ bullshit, the tracker went out and she stopped all communication with her parents. Not so much as a fucking credit card has been used on her end.”

“Where did she go missing,” Shuri asks boldly, looking directly at Fury with a fire in her eyes, “I’ll find her.”

It looked like that was exactly what Fury had expected to hear as a map lights up on the screen behind him, a pinpoint location locking on in the mountains of West Virginia. He slides two files onto the desk, one toward her and the other to Coulson.

“No name for the town?” 

Shuri glances to the lack of name on the map, the word _unknown_ glaring at her. 

“No because that would make it too fucking easy now wouldn’t it,” Fury huffs, “But there _are_ people up on that mountain. Quite the big family actually and I think I know exactly what they’re doing.”

Fury gestures toward the map, “Omegas are missing in nearby towns. The Rodgers family reportedly lives out there and is supposedly known for their lineage of alphas and old traditions, the latest in the line being the fucking _sheriff_ of the closest _named_ town. Said town also had a disappearance close to him being placed as sheriff. Doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

Shuri glaces over the file. She is not a huge fan on how much thinner it is compared to the usual SHIELD files. She wonders just how much more Fury actually knows and how much he is keeping from them and wonders if she even wants to know because what he _does_ tell them is not good. Seeing Wanda’s face and her information as the first page in the file makes her heart clench and the determination to get her back only grows when she sees more missing person reports shuffled through the file. Natasha Romanoff being one of the latest ones. All are stretched out over a course of time. Centuries even. Saying it’s suspicious does not even begin to cover it. She wonders just how far _deep_ this goes and how many people are involved, especially with the supposed latest Rodgers being a _sheriff_ of all things. Should she expect an entire town to turn on her at a moment’s notice?

“Alphas kidnapping omegas,” Coulson is the first to mention the rather large elephant that is weighing heavily in the room, “You think the whole town’s involved?”

“Don’t know and there’s only one way to find out. Maximoff is missing there, her parents need answers and more apparently, _I_ need some fucking progress on this _now._ I need someone to find out what’s going on _and_ find her. Hell, find _all_ the missing omegas. Get as much evidence as you fucking can.”

Someone kidnapping omegas is not exactly brand new news. It happens more often than Shuri would like, but no matter how many times she hears it, it always leaves a bad taste in her mouth. Nowadays, handlers and more consensual relations between omegas and alphas are the norm, but there is always going to be someone, somewhere that thinks that they have the right to someone else. It infuriates Shuri just thinking about someone stripping away someone else’s rights, their _identity,_ like that, and the unspoken idea that it could have happened to Wanda just makes her want to go there and punch the first person she sees.

She won’t do it, of course, not unless it is an order. Mad as she is, she is not stupid, but it does make her jaw clench with the unspoken promise that she will do _whatever is necessary_ to find them and get them out.

“I will do it,” Shuri’s voice is a solid vice, one with conviction and determination as her eyes harden. She does not leave any room for correction or arguments. 

“I’m counting on it, Agent Shuri.” 

Fury’s tone is firm, but agreeable, speaking highly of his trust in her. 

“The hope is that if you go into town, someone will try to sweep you up. Play nice for as long as you can, but if you have to punch a son of a bitch, I won’t exactly stop you. Agent Coulson will be your backup, stationed just outside of town. Stay in contact often. When you have confirmation that Wanda is there - and as many of the other missing people you can find - we’ll swoop them all up so fast that none of those fuckers can slip away.”

Fury tosses something to her - a small bracelet with gleaming pearls. When she looks close enough, she can see the little details are off. The chain between the pearls are thick and leave little room between each bead. Feeling the weight of it in her hand, she can tell that it is definitely not real pearls.

“Why Fury, I’m flattered,” Shuri bats her eyelashes at him with a cheeky grin, “Never pictured you as the spoiling type and I don’t usually go for pearls…”

She trails off with a laugh as the fury in his eyes grow just enough to tell her that she is starting to walk a very thin line.

“Cut the shit. It’s a communication device, linked to a headset that Agent Coulson will be wearing. Squeeze the pearls together to talk to your fucking heart’s consent.”

He gets a box from under the table and it makes a heavy _thun_ k when he places it in front of Coulson. Coulson opens it with wide, expecting eyes and Shuri laughs when his face drops as he pulls out a large, unattractive headset hooked up to a radio box that belongs back in the old ages.

“Going a bit old school, Fury,” Shuri is already hooking the bracelet to her wrist, looking over it appreciatively, “I thought we were past that sort of _cack*.”_

Fury does not find her use of the word as funny as she does, but she spots the small twitch under his eye patch. 

“It’s harder to trace, linked specifically to your bracelet, and if someone finds him camping out in the woods…”

“ - then I just look a crazy nut,” Coulson finishes with a defeated sigh.

“ - It’s not as suspicious,” Fury adds, but does nothing to correct Coulson, “They’re more likely to leave you alone if they just think you’re some crazy guy in the woods. Though considering the type of people that may be there, some might actually invite you to dinner.”

“Either way,” Fury continues, “Agent Hill would bring too much attention and we need someone whose less likely to get one of those alpha nut’s wet.”

Coulson mutters something about being mildly offended, but he doesn’t speak loud enough for Shuri to catch all of his butthurt excuses. Shuri laughs and pats his back comfortingly, but doesn’t dispute Fury’s comment.

“If you don’t check in every so often, we’ll assume the worst and sweep in,” Fury explains, “If you end up getting in a bad situation, we will swoop in. If Coulson thinks it’s too dangerous, we will take over. But we want as much evidence as we can against the motherfuckers and we want those omegas safe. So for our piece of mind and so we can actually catch all of the slippery bastards involved, wait until the right moment to give us the word. We’ll have the rest of the agents stationed farther away. Won’t take too long for them to get there, but be prepared to stall for time. You know the drill, Agent Shuri.”

Shuri nods along, taking every word to heart as she buries her orders deep into her mind. She already has ideas for how she will be getting into town inconspicuously - in a small town like that, in the middle of nowhere a ‘broken down car’ excuse may get her pretty far. After all, it doesn’t exactly seem like they have any big tourist attractions. Hell, she would be surprised if they have so much as a motel. 

“I’ll bring Wanda back and all the omegas will be coming back home safely, that I can give you my absolute word, _sir.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cack - slang for something rubbish, trash, also used to mean feces/shit


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuri is now officially in town and meets the town mechanic, Bucky, who is more than thrilled to offer up the spare room at his folks' place for her.

Apparently, staged car breakdowns isn't something new to SHIELD; she supposes it makes sense given their career, but it’s not something she particularly thought about until Fury gave her a specialized car. One press of a button and it kills the engine give it a good second press, it’s back up and running. Or something along those lines, she just knew what button to press and when. He refused to just send her out there with a real broken down car with no emergency back-up plan to high tail the fuck out of there should it get ugly. 

Coulson is already stationed just outside of town, he gave her a somber  _ good luck _ before they parted ways and she had told him the same, along with a side note to not get eaten by bears. The face he made told her that he didn’t quite think the idea of camping all the way through. She didn’t even bother to give him a little bit of comfort, just laughed before she hopped in the car.

Making her way through town, she wonders if they’re in the right spot. Hardly a soul in sight, it seems more like a ghost town than an active community. She spots a few cars, parked in otherwise empty lots and missing their drivers. It has the makings of a town, she supposes, small shops and all, but the closed doors and signs aren’t particularly welcoming. If there are people here, they’re definitely doing a great job of discouraging tourists.

There are only two places that have any sort of activity. She spots some movement in what seems to be an unmarked police department; she remembers that the town is unofficial, likely unlicensed, and unmarked on maps. She wonders if anyone in the department is the notorious sheriff from the next town over that was mentioned in the files, the famous  _ Rodgers _ . It would make sense, becoming a sheriff in the place with the resources for the training before bringing it home. Especially if he’s stolen all the omegas he needs and doesn’t have room for any more.  _ Don’t get too ahead of yourself, Shuri. _

The other activity, to her good fortune, is the small gas station that has an auto shop attached it and a bright, lit up  _ open  _ sign. 

_ Bingo.  _ With a tight lipped grin, Shuri reaches into her pocket and feels the small discrete device that she needs. A press of a button later, the car sputters and begins to die off just as she pulls up to the service shop. She’s not oblivious to the fact that she's the only car in the lot and despite the lit up  _ open  _ sign, she doesn’t immediately spot anyone inside the storefront. She can, however, hear the buzz and hammer of working tools which means she’s not completely alone.

She presses the pearls on her bracelet together and raises her hands into her hair, as if she’s just fixing her appearance in the rear view mirror. 

“I’m heading in Coulson. Sounds like there’s at least one person here in this ghost town working in the auto shop, but I’m not for certain. Could be a gang of them.”

There’s a brief moment of silence before a faint voice whispers from the bracelet, she raises it closer to her ear to hear Coulson’s voice more clearly.

_ “Just take it slow and easy, they have a lot of weapons close at hand in a shop.” _

Shuri laughs, “Have some faith in me, Coulson. Update you when I can.”

Long legs swing out of the car as she walks into the open garage of the auto shop. She doesn’t spot anyone immediately and watches where she steps, the residue of who knows what splattered particularly everywhere. She peeks around the corner to see a man’s legs sticking out from under a raised car.

“Hello,” Shuri’s smile is bright and friendly, “Sorry to bother you, but do you think you can give me a hand? My car’s just outside in the lot, it’s completely useless, but at least it lasted long enough for me to find some help.” 

She gives a joyful laugh, eyes twinkling as the tools suddenly stop. The man drags himself out from the car in battered jeans and covered in so much grime that he’s just shy of looking like a bad fake tan. Long dark hair is pushed behind both ears, a bit greasy, but full and curling ends brush against his shoulders. The stubble on his face says he hasn’t shaved in a few days. He’s kind enough to grab a rag and wipe down his hands and his thick muscled arms that flex with each movement. 

His eyes are full of curiosity, looking her up and down as if he hasn’t heard a word she said and is instead only focused on the way her jean shorts hug her hips. Tense, she holds her head high and presses a firm hand against a swung out hip as she jabs a thumb to point outside.

“ _ My car _ . Think you can fit it in anytime soon?”

His eyes snap to hers and it takes a moment before he speaks, matching her smile.

“Sorry, your accent is very… different.” His voice comes out in a unique smooth drawl, country, but not hick. “We don’t get a lot of Brits this way.” 

Shuri has been used to that reaction since she’s joined SHIELD; never from the agents, who come from everywhere and all walks of life, but always at least once on a mission from a passerby. 

“It’s nice,” he continues, “I like it.”

The statement, while not anything negative, gives her an unsettling crawl on her skin. He keeps smiling and staring just a bit too long for comfort. He doesn’t make any other movements or comments, an unnerving silence fell between them. Shuri’s smile doesn’t quite meet her eyes as she nods toward the lot.

“My car.” 

Her voice is a gentle reminder, causing his eyes to snap away from her, looking past her and into the lot.

“Right, right. Let’s take a look.”

He doesn’t bother asking which car in the lot is hers, she supposes he doesn’t really have to, but it still would’ve been nice customer service. She shouldn’t expect even that much in this town. At least the car is unlocked as he climbs into the driver’s seat to pop the hood, eyes darting all over the car, as if he’s trying to take in as much as he can. Aside from some luggage that doesn’t contain anything but casual clothes and a purse with a false ID, the car sits rather empty. He seems to pay a bit too much attention to the clean leather and dustless dash. She watches him carefully when he takes a few minutes too long to get out of the car and into the hood. He doesn’t spend long digging into the hood before he pulls back, wiping his hands on the rag that’s now shoved into the pocket of his jeans.

“Your oil is pretty empty and the alternator’s shot. Engine looks like it needs a new battery.”

The battery part sounds more honest, she imagines it must look like something like that with the sudden stop of the engine. But the oil and alternator, she’s not sure just how much he’s bullshitting her and why. She could maybe believe the alternator, unsure with exactly how the car works to stop so suddenly, but if SHIELD really doesn’t have any oil in their car, she would personally pay for Fury’s next vacation.

But if this is what he’s giving her, it’s what she will work with. She knows how to play her part. She bats her eyes at him, akin to a damsel seeking a hero, and sits on the now closed hood, crossing her long bare legs over each other. She playfully swings a foot in the air, almost impatiently as if she’s unsure of what to do.

“I just bought the car, I didn’t know I needed to change the oil.” She pouts for good measure, hoping that it would take his mind off the rather empty and clean car.

It works like a charm, with him chuckling before speaking in a  _ well honey  _ tone as if he knows more than she does and is taking pity on her by explaining every detail. 

“Anytime you buy a car, new or not, you’re gonna want to change the oil, sweetheart. The engine may be out, considering the whole thing seems pretty dead. You’re lucky it didn’t go out on you before you got to town.”

A finger brushes against the device in her pocket, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip.  _ Luck of course.  _ She supposes she looks rather lost, with him looking at her with that intense glare, briefly looking over her clean shaven, long bare legs. She hoped that the tiny shorts would help pass her off as a younger girl who doesn’t know much about the world, keep suspicion off, but she uncrosses her legs and stands up, almost feeling protective against his gaze. 

“I suppose it’s going to take you awhile to get it running again,” Shuri muses, “Is there any motel nearby?”

She didn’t see any motel when she was driving through town, which hurts her idea of staying in town as much as she can while the car is getting fixed and the idea of staying a few towns over doesn’t settle well with her. She wants to stay as close and personal to the town as she can.

He shakes his head. “The next motel is over fifty miles out and too long of a drive for someone without a car. You got someone you can call to get you?”

_ Yes.  _ She thinks of Coulson, worst case scenario, she will have to either sleep in the car or stay out in the tent with him. But staying with him could cause future problems if someone spotted them out there together. Staying in the car wouldn’t be awful. She has yet to see a single security camera, she could always turn the engine back on at night while she’s sleeping; but that would have a higher risk of someone seeing her supposedly dead car running. 

“No,” Shuri speaks evenly, “I don’t have a phone to call even if I had anyone. I suppose I can crash in my car on your lot until morning, if it’s not too much trouble.” 

“Can’t let you do that, sweetheart. Most folks around here are friendly enough, but it still isn’t safe for a young thing like yourself to be sleeping out here at night alone.” 

He looks her over, as if he’s weighing some other option that he hasn’t voiced yet, his brows drawn. She doesn’t trust that look, but is interested to see where it’s going to lead.

“My folks have a spare room, I’m sure they’d be happy to set you up for a night or two.”

_ Ah yes, that wouldn’t be compromising at all,  _ Shuri debates for a moment, but the idea of at the very least meeting other people in this town sounds inviting, “I wouldn’t want to impose….”

He whispers her words over, as if he’s memorized by them, with a twisted grin and a sparkle in his eyes. 

“I like the way you think, doll, but my folks would love to have you. They don’t get a lot of visitors anymore, especially now that I’ve moved out. My cousin stayed with them for a while until he became sheriff in the next town over. He’s back home now, decided being a sheriff here where he’s needed is better. Newly wed too, so I’m not sure if he’s been up to visit the folks too much.”

Everything about what he seems turns her stomach sideways as she realizes that the Rodgers family is definitely bigger than they thought it was, making him one of the top contenders for being a kidnapper, or worse. If there was any doubt that this Steve Rodgers  _ hadn’t _ been the reason for that disappearance in the same town he happened to be sheriff in, it’s definitely gone now. It’s too suspicious that he would return home so soon after becoming a sheriff, with a wife to boot. 

She’s not sure just how ‘friendly’ his folks really are either, but if it’s the same  _ Rodgers _ family, then she can’t be for certain that his mom is actually here of her own will. 

It’s risky - very risky - and she’s not sure where this man, who has yet to even tell her his name, is going with all of this or what he’s planning. She has some ideas, though, which means she’s going to have to tread carefully. But the chance to meet other people in the town, see the Rodgers family herself, and have the admittedly small chance of even catching Steve Rodgers himself, it’s too good to pass up.

“Well if you’re certain,” Shuri’s smile has a dangerous edge to it that he doesn’t catch, “I would love to.”

* * *

He doesn’t drive her through the town, making her tense as she watches each tree pass by them the further they go into the mountains. He doesn’t even drive her off to a farm, just a dirt road that turns more into a beaten path as they dodge the overgrowth.

He tells her his name is James on their drive, but he insists on her calling him Bucky. Apparently nicknames are the norm in the area, with everyone treating each other like family. Bucky talks as if there’s a lot of people around, and she wonders just how many. But as long as Bucky is willing to talk, she’ll milk it for all its worth. The more information she can get, the better.

“Your parents live this far from town,” she asks tentatively and curiously, not quite glancing at him as she watches out the window. 

“My entire family has lived on the mountain for two hundred years, give or take. Houses are scattered about all over the mountain, we’ve always liked our privacy. My folks don’t really leave the mountain anymore, but a lot of the family still ventures to town when needed and for special occasions. Every so often, people like my cousin may venture out of town to find themselves a good wife to bring back home.”

“Sounds a bit claustrophobic,” Shuri ventures, testing the waters of the conversation, “You make it seem like no one’s allowed to leave.”

His knuckles are tight on the steering wheel and he glances at her through the corners of his eyes, his friendly demeanor is darkening rapidly and she  _ sees  _ it - that look in his eyes that tell her she’s walking on thin ice.  _ Good.  _

“Nonsense, living on the mountain is about as free as you can get.” 

The rest of the drive is silent and Shuri isn’t about to risk setting him off, not when she can be so close. Besides, he’s already told her quite a bit, enough for her to start to get a good idea of what’s really going on here. It does, however, make her skin crawl as she focuses more on what his motives could be for bringing her here.

His parents, thankfully, don’t live in some backward rut like she almost expected. The house is modern, larger than she thought would be needed, with big windows. Meeting his father, she can tell where Bucky got his structure from, but he definitely has his mother’s eyes.

The night goes better than she thought it would, with it being filled with friendly smiles and polite conversations. His mother was tickled when she offered to help cook, but it was more for Shuri to at least know what she was eating and to avoid any possible chance of getting poisoned. When they sit to eat, she watches every drink poured from a fresh spout closely and is tight lipped and vagued about the way they fawn over her pearl bracelet, with his father saying that ‘it’s a beautiful piece of jewelry for a good southern woman.’ 

They fuss over her all night, careful to let her win any of their card games, and complement her often. She accepts every complement with a shy smile and a carefully worded compliment in return. 

But when the night comes, after she’s lead to a spare bedroom, Shuri waits until she is sure that every living being in the house is asleep and every light is off before she looks out the window and presses the pearls of her bracelet together.

_ “Coulson,”  _ her voice is soft and tense, “There’s been a little bit of an unexpected development.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions increase as Bucky insists on Shuri staying at his place tonight.

Her check-in with Coulson the previous night didn’t go over very well and Shuri can’t say that she blames him. She is not exactly thrilled to be staying in a stranger’s house in the middle of the forest either, but even Coulson couldn’t deny that this would be their best (and maybe only) shot at finding out what happened to Wanda and the other missing omegas. 

But she is still alive come the next morning, which she supposes has to count for something. At the very least, Bucky picks her up to take her back to the auto shop. The ride is more comfortable back into town than it was out, despite the fact that Shuri is fully aware that she is, once again, in a truck with someone who's at least related to a family that is highly suspected of kidnapping omegas. 

Shuri hates to admit that there is a sense of easiness that comes over her, being a bit more comfortable being back in town with the light of the sun shining down into the open garage. She’s not too keen on the way Bucky continues to chat her up, but she gives appropriate replies here and there that seem to keep him satisfied.

The more she watches him work on the car, the more she notices that he’s doing very minimal work. In one way, it feels as if he’s stalling, and on the other, she at least doesn’t have to worry about him messing up a SHIELD-grade car. He makes some off-hand comment about ordering the parts he needs for her car and then begins to work on one of the other cars on the lot.

She doesn’t really have anywhere else to go. She wanders out of the garage here and there, tempted to wander through town on foot, but it could cause future complications if someone jumps her. She still doesn’t see a single soul in town anyway, so she stays put until the sun begins to set as Bucky finishes up his work, informing her that he won’t be able to finish her car until the part comes in tomorrow. _ Oh I fucking bet you will,  _ Shuri thinks with mild amusement, having doubts of his plans to actually fix her car, but it wouldn’t do her any good to speak up now until she has more information.

The trip takes longer this time around, driving further into the forest than Shuri really feels comfortable with. Despite them only going there once, she knows damn well that this isn’t the route to his folks’ place. She eyes him with mild caution, a hand on her bracelet, ready to signal for help should it be needed. She glances toward his muscled, but exposed, neck, and wonders just how much force would be needed to do a one-hit knock out on him. 

But he’s not as stupid as she thinks he is, as he looks at her through the corner of his eyes with a wicked, twisted grin.

“Don’t look so tense, missy. My father’s hunting buddies are taking up my folks’ place tonight, so it looks like it’ll be my place tonight.”

His truck pulls into a cabin that’s not as extravagant as his folks, nor as big, but looks like a comfortably sized getaway. While he walks ahead of her with confidence, she trails behind with headed caution, taking in every detail carefully. Knowing who she is with, or more accurately, who his  _ family _ is, she takes each step as if she’s expecting a bear trap to lock onto her ankle at any second or for any trap to spring on her. She steps in each of Bucky’s footsteps, copying his movements as best as she can, to lower the chances of her tripping a hidden wire.

The cabin isn’t as cozy nor warm as his parents’ were. The shelves and counters are bare of any knickknacks and photo frames while Shuri is able to gaze out into the darkened woods through the exposed windows. Despite the small bits of furniture, the cabin hardly looks lived in and it makes her jaw tense as a sense of unease crawls up her back. 

“Bit empty, and quiet isn’t it,” Shuri questions carefully, her words slow.

Bucky shrugs off the question with a laugh that comes off uneasy and forced. 

“I’ve never been much for housekeepin’,” he explains, “The cabin could use more of a woman’s touch.”

Shuri follows him into the kitchen with her shoulders back and head held high. She spots her bags in the corner and wonders if his folks dropped off her stuff and just how much of it will be missing if she checks; thankfully, the bags had nothing but her clothes in them and like any mission, she never packed anything she would miss if something were to happen to it. The fact that they dropped the bags off is unexpected, and not needed. But considering that nothing is stolen out of them, clean underwear is always welcomed.

Bucky heats up two microwave dinners for them. She spends the time at the table picking at the food and watching at the door. Unlike his folks, who had poured everything fresh, she watched Bucky carefully fill up mason jars with water from the sink. But Bucky watches her just as carefully, with hooded eyes that have dark shadows underneath them. She meets his gaze evenly, almost as if she’s accepting an unspoken challenge.

“You’re a pretty young thing, aren’t ya? You look so fresh, full of life. I bet you’ve broken lots of hearts.”

She has. Metaphorically and otherwise. A fact she’s tempted to tell him, just to see if he realizes the seriousness of her tone when she says it, if he realizes that she is just as a threat to him as he is trying to be toward her; and he is, she notices the way he pulls his shoulders back, puffs his chest up to his chin, and tries to take up as much room as possible. Like a bear trying to make itself look bigger.

“For someone so young, you have a very classic taste in jewelry,” he gestures toward the supposed pearls on her wrist, “Very feminine. It suits you.”

He traces a finger along the mouth of the mason jar he drinks. She notes the way he looks at her, how he trails along her long legs that drape over the edge of her chair and how her shirt falls on her chest. It may have been a while since she’s gotten that type of action, but she is far from stupid. His looks aren’t innocent, they’re  _ hungry.  _

In a different time, different place, she may have been okay with playing his prey, if just for one night. But she reminds herself why she’s here and doesn’t return any of his gazes and pushes down the heat that threatens to blossom on her cheeks.

“We don’t get a lot of folks of your color around here.” The comment makes her skin crawl and itch, but he just smiles, “You have a beautiful shade of skin, if I may say so, miss.”

_ No you must not say so. _

When dinner is finished, she notes every single room in the house as he leads her to his bedroom, insisting that it’s the only bed in the cabin. She counts five rooms in total, all empty and undisturbed. She doesn’t see anyone else, but she’s not sure how she feels about that. No hidden doors that she’s spotted yet, not even a basement or attic. 

He brings her bags with them and plops them down in a bedroom in the very back of the cabin, the only one with any furniture aside from the minor things she’s seen in the living area and kitchen. The bed is large with a thick comforter, and at least a TV.

“Just tuck yourself in, doll. I’ll be out on the couch.”

The moment the door clicks behind him, Shuri checks for any bugs, any notes, anything that she can use. The drawers are empty aside from a whiskey flask that’s half full (and a sniff confirms that it is indeed whiskey that’s inside of it), the TV remote and ironically, a Bible that’s free of any handwritten notes. The TV, as far as she can tell, is just a normal TV, and she finds no spy gear or hidden cameras. With the little comfort that brings, she shuffles through her bags to find everything there, changes into her sleepwear and plops down into the bed.

_ “ _ Coulson,” she whispers into her wrist as she activites the device, “You’re not going to like what’s happened.”

_ “....Why? What did you do?” _

She keeps her update short, with the paranoia that Bucky could walk in at any moment, but she was right - he didn’t like what was happening at all. If she were honest, neither did she.

* * *

The night was cold and full of coyote howls outside her window. Despite the temptation to lull into sleep, Shuri is wide awake. Her eyes are already well adjusted to the darkness when she sees Bucky slip into the bedroom like a shadowy eel. The moonlight casts a sinister shadow on his face, making him look sinister. Like a  _ monster  _ that lurks around, stalking toward her bed.

But just like any other dark creature, he slithers away when she turns on the lamp and stares at him, waiting for an explanation. For a moment, they only stare at each other in a tense silence that weighs heavy within the room, but Shuri refuses to back down as she raises a single brow in question. He finally answers.

“I’m sorry, doll, I forgot something and didn’t want to wake you.”

_ Bullshit.  _ He was heading for the bed, she knows it, and it’s only confirmed when he leaves quickly without taking anything from the bedroom with him. 

She doesn’t sleep a wink that night.

* * *

The next morning, she is cautious and careful when she exits the bedroom, making sure to stay out of the line of sight of the windows when she changes. But when she finds no one home and Bucky’s truck gone, she frowns with displeasure.

He was supposed to take her back to town today as he finishes up her car, but she knows that what he says and whatever it is he is planning are two very different things. But an empty cabin with no one to stop her from snooping around, she can’t complain too much. 

She spends the entire day, despite the heat that beats in from the windows, searching the cabin thoroughly. She doesn’t find any bugs, or cameras - the most advanced tech is the TV within the back bedroom and the microwave. By all means, everything she finds suggests a simple, if a bit backward, lifestyle. No secret hidden doors, she checked the empty bedrooms carefully. 

She’s just about to get frustrated at her lack of findings when she hears his truck pulling in and she meets him at the porch, hands crossed over her chest as her eyes strike daggers into his. She doesn’t bother to offer any help with the supposed grocery bags that he carries back into the house, barely even stepping out of his way and not bothering to hold the door open for him. He grunts a bit at the lack of response from her, but doesn’t show any other signs of noticing her aggression.

“I had to run into town for food. Your part came in and I had wanted to work on it as much as I could today. Not done yet, but it’s getting there.”

She still had the device that turned on the car in her pocket - it didn’t give her any alarm that something was wrong with the car. But she didn’t even need any evidence at this point to know that he was most definitely not working on the car.

“I’d like you to take me into town, see the car for myself.”

The comment makes him pause as he works on putting away the groceries, almost as if he’s confused as to why she’s even asking,

“Why?”

“ _ Why,” _ she parrots, with anger seeping into her tone, but he still doesn’t notice the fire that’s growing behind her eyes.

“Kitchen’s stocked now. You’ll be comfortable here. We’ve got Netflix.”

The anger starts to seep into her bones, but despite the fire that lights up her eyes, her face is eerily calm as she takes a seat at the table. 

“Why should it matter, it’s my car, isn’t it? My fucking choice.”

A muscle twitches in his jaw and she stares at him, neither of them backing down. He towers over her as she sits down and yet she still manages to come off as the bigger person in the room. But his eyes are soft and there’s a smile on his lips.

“I knew you were going to be a spitfire.” He comes too close to her for comfort, but she holds her head high in defiance, still refusing to break his gaze. “But don’t ever use that kind of language under my roof again or I will take a belt to that little chocolate rear of yours.”

Shuri’s lips thin, but she doesn’t back down from his threat. She would  _ love _ to see him even try to land a hand on her. She would take him out before he even knew what happened. She almost wishes that he  _ will _ try. Just so she could knock that look off his face. 

“Steve said that I should take the direct approach with ya, he’s got the most experience with all of this.” He sighs, resting his palms beside her on the table, his forearms flexing. “He said that it would be kinder, be doing you a favor, but I ain’t never done this.” 

Her ears perk up at the mention of Steve’s name, finally getting the lead she’s been looking for, despite that she has a sinking feeling at where Bucky is going with this conversation. She will grasp at any straw she’s given though, take any lead with stride, even if it means playing along.

“What do you mean?”

She already knows and he looks at her, confused at the even tone of voice and how she still hasn’t lifted her gaze from him.

“I think you know. You’re not leaving here, not till I think you’re ready anyway. I’m keeping you.” 

She still doesn’t back down, looking at him, unblinking and he finds himself unnerved as if he should be scared about what she is about to do or say. She relishes the way he takes a small step back, the confusion written on his face. She crosses her hands in her lap and slyly uses the position to her advantage, pressing the pearls of her bracelet together. If Coulson is smart, he’ll be quiet and listen. With the way this conversation is heading, she knows that there is just going to be piles of evidence heading their way - evidence that can and will be used against the people here.

“Why?”

Her voice lacks any signs of fear and her word doesn’t once tremble. She is direct, matter of fact, as if he didn’t just threaten to never let her leave or threaten to hit her should she curse - a threat she doesn’t just scoff at, she  _ laughs _ at within the confines of her mind. 

“I think that would be obvious, darling,” Bucky speaks slowly, as if he never thought she would even ask. “I like you and I don’t plan on letting a dark skinned, beautiful omega like you just walk out on me. It’s just how we all do things around here.”

When she doesn’t say anything, he continues and she takes in each word carefully, noting the way he says  _ we all  _ as if there’s many more within the mountains which confirms what they already suspected.

“‘Course we have certain rules that are to be obeyed. No cursin’ is one of the biggest of ‘em, but since I don’t plan on lettin’ you go, you’ll be my wife. Eventually. You will take care of the entire cabin. Cooking. Cleaning. Become the perfect lil’ wife.”

Oh she highly doubts any of that. Even when she really does marry, she doubts that she will be what many label a ‘perfect wife’ for many reasons, some being the ones he even pointed out. She can’t remember the last meal she actually cooked by hand.

Bucky continues to explain, and she continues to let Coulson in on their conversation. She listens to each word carefully, but she understands the gist of it as it’s exactly what SHIELD thought this would be. She can’t say she’s happy that SHIELD is right, but at least her chances of finding the others and Wanda are much higher.

“Alright,” Shuri finally speaks up calmly, “I’ll play along for now.”

He smiles at her, if with a bit of confusion, and babbles a bit about how he’s happy that she’s accepting her role so easily, and that she’s realizing just exactly who the man of the house is. She rolls her eyes and stands, removing her from her bracelet and waves him off.

“Yes, yes, just get some decent groceries next time if you actually expect me to try to cook.”


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day-to-day of Shuri with Bucky as she learns what he expects of her

The next few days are spent learning his schedule. She times every moment he’s gone so she knows exactly when he will be back. She knows that he goes into town into his shop, usually coming home with minor groceries or cleaning supplies that he’s very clear are for her to use; she still hasn’t touched them, instead using the broom to sweep and focus on laundry, so he at least thinks she does something while he’s gone. 

She learns that as long as she gets one of these so called chores done, then he’s content. He keeps telling her how he’s ‘patient’ and ‘she’ll come around.’ She rebuts him each time, insisting sternly that she will only do what chores she wants to do and how many she does is her choice. She loves the way that it makes him squirm every time she uses that phrase -  _ her choice.  _

She takes every chance to remind him that this - all of this - is  _ her choice.  _ He may not believe her, but so far he doesn't do anything to try to force her to do anything more than she chooses to do as long as she continues to play nice.

Every night when he comes home, just after the sun sets, he takes his boots off at the door and settles down at the kitchen table. The first time he had her cook, it was basic, bland and slightly burnt. She hardly ate it, but loved the way he flinched with each bite. Now, he gave her an old beaten recipe book and carefully watches her when she cooks, but every time he glances away, she’s tempted to slip him rat poison. 

He loves how ‘easily she’s slipping into her role,’ but the truth is that she spends every moment she gets searching for clues. Anything that can tell her about the other stolen omegas or the Rodgers family. She updates Coulson often, and tries to play along as much as she can with the hope that trust will get her far. But she can’t help the small feeling in her gut that she is barely making any progress.

* * *

  
  


The moonlight beams in through the windows as she tiptoes through the hall, wandering out past what Bucky would like to call her ‘bedtime.’ She takes careful and slow steps, avoiding the planks that she knows will creek loudly. She can’t afford to make any sudden noises and in the silence of the night, everything is noticeable. It is exactly why she could hear Bucky’s soft voice all the way in the bedroom in the first place; it sounded like he was talking to someone and she wouldn’t be a good spy if she couldn’t figure out who was on the other side of the conversation.

The light from a single lamp beams around Bucky’s frame as he lingers in the kitchen. The lack of a shirt takes her off guard and she swallows at the defined muscles that sheen with sweat and glow under the light. His broad shoulders are hunched forward as he stands, his back leaning against the edge of the kitchen counter. One hand tussles his dark hair while the other balances the phone to his ear. 

“I’m tellin’ ya Steve, she ain’t be giving me any problems. A few curses at the beginning that got sorted out quick, but I haven’t had to do any of that disciplinary action that you recommended. She’s been an angel - a dark skinned, beautiful angel.”

She peeks around the corner of the hallway, leaning as much as she can to get a better listen, but is careful to stay out of the light and blend into the shadows. The name  _ Steve _ makes her perk up and focus more intently, even though the way that he talks about her causes a sour taste in her mouth. She takes note that Steve is apparently the one who has been telling Bucky what to do, or how to handle this sort of situation. She wonders just how much of a hold Steve has over Bucky, how much of what Bucky is doing is him doing just what’s expected of him and how much of this is his choice. 

Her jaw locks, knowing that more of it has to be his choice than she really wants to accept as his muscled frame threatens to tempt her to think otherwise. But she refuses to be a sucker for a pretty face - or body.

“She’s my fiance, Steve, even if she doesn't know it yet. If she continues with this good behavior then I think I’ll be bringing her down to church sometime soon. Give her a chance to meet everyone, maybe her good behavior will rub off on Banner’s girl.”

She doesn’t like the sound of that; the implication that there is someone else being held captive that is not being as obedient as this so-called Banner would like. The idea that whomever that girl is could be getting disciplined in all sorts of manners makes her chest  _ burn. _

But if she plays her cards right, if she continues with all this… then she may - no she  _ will _ \- get the chance to save that girl and whomever else is stuck in this hellish backwater town. And once that chance comes, she will take it with a righteous fury.

* * *

Bucky doesn’t come home with more supplies this time, just a small box that’s choppily wrapped in an old newspaper and a beaten Christmas bow. Despite how much he tries to hide it from her, she sees it, but doesn’t question it. She doesn’t hear any ticking or smell any foul odor coming from it and brushes it off, knowing that she will find out what it is sooner or later. 

He tries to hide it under the table by his feet as they sit down for dinner. As she puts down their plates without so much as glancing at him, he reaches under the table and sets it beside their empty plates.

She takes in the beaten newspaper wrapping and the out of date Christmas bow and then looks at him with a raised, unimpressed brow. She spots the faintest hint of pink on his cheeks and if the blush were on the face of any other man, it may have been cute.

“It’s a gift. For you, I mean. Go ahead and open it. Ma insisted that I wrapped it.”

Each tape is peeled off carefully before she gives up with that idea and just tears through the newspaper, tossing the old bow to the ground. She opens the lid to a small box slowly, expecting something to jump out of it. She hopes that he’s not one of those poor chaps who think bringing home a sudden, unexpected pet is cute. Considering the lack of air holes, she also hopes she’s not about to find a dead pet instead of a fluffy cute one.

She does find something fluffy inside the box, but the new tags make it clear that it is brand new slippers instead of a pet. Bucky looks at her expectedly and she gives a polite thank you with a tense smile, accepting the gift with grace. 

She discards the new tags, wrapping and the box before slipping her feet into the slippers. She has to admit that the warmth is welcomed on her cold feet - the wood of the cabin not being well heated, but she wonders just why he’s suddenly feeling this generous.

“I think it’s about time that you step up your duties while I’m away,” Bucky tells her, his words careful and his eyes hooded, daring her to argue with him. He stands uncomfortably close to her, his breath beating down her neck as he places a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly. “We need the house kept and clean, don’t we, darling? None of this will work if you settle for only a chore a day. Sitting on your butt all day is bad for ya. Working is good for your soul and body. You’ll get used to things after a while. I think these slippers will keep your feet warm enough to keep working, don’t you?”

She doesn’t hesitate to gently lift his hand off her shoulder with pinched fingers, limiting the contact she has to have with him. Her bottom lip curls with distaste. Playing along will only go so far and she will be clear on what her boundaries are. He resists the motion at first, his arm strong against her as his fingers try to interlope with hers, almost as if he thought she was going to hold his hand. She pushes against him and he relents, dropping his hand with furrowed brows.

“Now darling, you’re going to have to get used to being touched if you’re going to be my wife.” He has the nerve to laugh - a sound that makes a shiver go down her spine as she turns on her heels with fiery.

Immediately her mind is ignited with the memory of Bucky’s midnight phone call, the implication that there is at least one other girl out there who needs her help and the burning passion floods her veins.

  
“ _ Wife _ ,” she spits back at him with venom, her nose twitching as she bites by the curses that flood her throat. 

She didn’t want to question the word wife _ ,  _ she already assumed that was his end goal based on his conversation. She wanted to call him something, something  _ colorful,  _ but her venom fills the word  _ wife  _ instead, knowing that she’s not supposed to know what he plans on doing, that she’s not supposed to know that there’s another girl out there that needs her help. That she’s not supposed to know that this town is full of omega-kidnapping  _ bastards _ that need to pay.

He answers her as if he doesn’t sense the hospitality, looking off in the distance with a gleam in his eyes that makes her realize just how  _ delusional  _ he is. 

“Of course, doll. Once you settle in with me, we’ll get ourselves married and start our family. I was thinking about three kids. We got the rooms for it and I can always expand the house if you want more. The Preacher’s good, you know, he’ll be thrilled to marry us off. He loves doing the weddings here.”

Shuri takes a deep breath through her nose, her nostrils flaring as she stands firmly with her arms crossed against her chest.

“I’m not marrying you. I said I’d play along, for now, but I am not going to the chapel with anyone anytime soon.”

He laughs, but the serious, deathly glare cuts it short as if she finally managed to get through to him. 

“I didn’t say it had to be anytime soon, sweetheart,” Bucky’s lips thin, “‘Sides, I ain’t askin’. I’m doing you a favor and just telling you how things will be going.”

Shuri tenses, her nails digging into her arm to keep her from doing something that will threaten her mission, but Bucky is just digging himself a deeper hole. A part of her weighing the pros and cons of not playing nice anymore and just beating what she wants out of him. 

“Marriage requires consent. I will never consent to marry a man who seems to think he’s holding me captive.” She takes a step forward, her eyes meeting his evenly. “But  _ let me do you a favor  _ and tell you directly that I will  _ never  _ consent to marrying _ you. _ ”

Bucky’s eye twitches as his jaw locks, his neck flexing with thick veins throbbing against his skin. 

“You  _ will  _ consent to marriage and I reckon it won’t take as long as you think it will for you to accept that. But we  _ will _ get there eventually and you won’t be the first bride around these parts to be draggin’ her feet to the altar. But I’m being  _ nice  _ and I won’t need a shotgun to get you there.” 

The mention of the other brides dragging themselves to the altar makes her quake. She raises her foot, wanting to take it and kick him hard where she knows it will hurt the most. But the rest of his conversation from the other night still plays on loops in her mind. 

_ If she continues with this good behavior then I think I’ll be bringing her down to church sometime soon. Give her a chance to meet everyone, maybe her good behavior will rub off on Banner’s girl.  _

She puts her foot back down, her toes curling inside of the slippers that she had begrudgingly accepted from him. She has a chance if she endures this for just a  _ little bit longer.  _ Long enough for her to make it to this so-titled church. Enough to meet everyone, hopefully that includes this ‘Banner’s girl.’ 

Bucky sighs at her behavior, “I’ll just make something microwavable for tonight. I think you’re too work up, sweetheart. I think my little doll needs to go on off to bed without supper. Tomorrow, if you’re feeling better, I’ll take you down to church as a reward.”

She bites her tongue to keep from correcting him when he calls her,  _ his doll. _ When he tries to take her hand to lead her into the bedroom and she yanks out of his grasp, holds her head high and escorts  _ her own damn self _ to the bedroom, leaving him behind in the kitchen.

She knows that she won’t be getting any sleep tonight, her mind swirling with the endless possibilities of how tomorrow could go. The idea of being in a church - and she scoffs that they have the  _ balls  _ to even call it that - full of people like the Rodgers, like Bucky, makes her want to puke. But Bucky did mention meeting  _ everyone.  _ She could meet Banner’s girl, other lost omegas that need her, need someone to save them. She could  _ help.  _

  
For the first time in the days she’s been with Bucky, her hope at  _ succeeding _ in her mission burns within her. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuri finally gets the break she's been hoping for as Bucky takes her into church to meet everyone - including Steve Rodgers.

Shuri updates Coulson that night, when Bucky is deep asleep and she’s sure that it’s safe. Coulson, while he still doesn’t like anything about this situation, admits that playing nice to get to the church is their best chance of finding anyone, provided that Bucky keeps his end of the bargain. 

  
And he does. Bucky keeps his ‘promise’ of taking her with him to church the next morning, with him insisting on them showering and getting dressed nicely for the affair. A part of her wonders just what ‘getting dressed nicely’ is to him, if it’s going to be anything different than what he already wears. While she has showered before within the cabin, she was always careful to do it while he was gone. 

This time, however, she doesn’t have much choice. While she showers, always thankful for the chance to get clean, she keeps a careful eye on the door. She watches for any lingering shadows under the door frame and listens for the creaks of any floorboards. Every time she has to close her eyes, it’s brief and fast, not wanting to leave herself exposed for any longer than she has to. She does catch some noise in the bedroom once, when she’s just getting finished, but the door never budges. No one comes barging in or he doesn’t try to peek through the door’s gaps.

She waits until she can hear him leave and then comes out, towel wrapped tightly around her. She looks over the room carefully, but doesn’t see him hiding anywhere and the door to the bedroom is at least closed. She’s quick to lock it before she turns to the clothes that are already laid out on the bed for her.  _ Ah so this must be what that eel was doing.  _

A pair of heels and a dress. The heels look like they will fit and are a plain black color with a thick stiletto. The dress seems like it will fit too, even if it is far from something she would ever get for herself. Neither are things that are from her bags, so she wonders if it’s something Bucky picked out or if his mother did it for him. She leans toward the latter.

The dress seems a bit too old for her tastes. With its higher neckline and muted colors, it screams middle-aged white woman rather than hip or young. It’s far from something that she would ever pick for herself, but she is at least thankful that it’s not white and this isn’t a forced wedding disguised as a church visit. 

She debates on whether or not she wants to actually wear it, positive that she has something that would work in her bag. But ultimately, she decides that it’s not worth the fight. 

The dress and heels both end up fitting her fine. Not perfect, but good enough that it won’t cause any issues. The dress’ cinched in waist is just a bit too low for her high hips and the longer a-line of the skirt combined with the ¾ sleeves does little to flatter her figure. The color is at least a bit flattering on her skin tone, but she still gags a bit when she sees her reflection in the mirror.

But she comes out in the clothes nonetheless to see Bucky waiting for her in the living room. His hair is wet from a shower and curls wildly around his shoulders. His clothes aren’t as pristine as hers are, but he wears a pair of jeans that don’t have any stains or tears and the button-up shirt flatters the muscles he hides underneath it. She shakes her head to clear that line of thought as she walks with her head high and looks to him, waiting for him to lead her out like the gentlemen he claims to be.

“You look great, darling. Maybe sometime later, we’ll get you some more dresses.”

“That won’t be needed,” she turns the offer down, just to spite the way that his eyes linger on the parts of her legs that are exposed, and decides that she would rather not wait for him, heading straight for the truck herself.

He watches her for a moment, eying the way the dress shapes her rear and hips, before he finally walks out of the house and opens the truck door for her. He offers a hand to help her climb in, but she turns her nose to him and says nothing. 

* * *

The road to the church is long and paved, spiraling out of town and into the mountains. If Shuri didn’t know where it was leading, she wouldn’t expect the path to lead to a church - maybe a farm or another back road. She keeps a close eye on the way they get there, memorizing it for future reference.

The church itself looks like any other small town church with a tall cross on the top of it and beaten wood with chipped, old white paint. It’s smaller than she expected and she takes that as a good sign that this supposed family in the mountains, the ones kidnapping all these omegas, aren’t going to be as big of a group as they expected. 

There are, however, still quite a few trucks parked outside the church that tells her that there are at least quite a few people inside.

She lets Bucky take her arm to lead her inside, and she ignores the way that he smiles down at her as if he’s proud to be showing her off. He takes her through a back entrance and she prepares herself for the worst. 

The wooden pews are few in number and are tightly packed, with each occupant being elbow-to-elbow with the person beside them. A few glance their way, with everyone smiling warmly at her as if they’re welcoming her into the family. She notes the faces of the ones whose smiles are strained, tight, and seem to scream at her with their eyes, pleading her to either run or help them. Her nails lightly dig into Bucky’s arm. 

A man comes to greet them, with a perfect white-toothed smile, styled blonde hair and bright blue eyes that are too sharp for his own good. He wears a white-button down and nice jeans that hug tightly on his waist. The badge that is hooked onto his belt doesn’t go unnoticed as Shuri’s eyes narrow, a sinking feeling in her gut as she realizes just who this person is. 

Beside him is a beautiful brunette with tired eyes and a sincere, almost sad smile. She bounces a plump infant on her hip, the baby seems content and oblivious to the tension building between the adults as it gnaws on one fist and uses the other to tug gently on the woman’s hair.

Shuri recognizes the woman’s face. She looks older in person with crows feet at the edges of hollow eyes, but there is no mistaking the missing person file that she read over before she left.  _ Peggy Carter.  _ The woman ‘supposedly’ kidnapped by one Sheriff Steve Rodgers. Shuri gives her a hard nod in greeting, as if to say  _ hang in there. _

Steve, however, doesn’t hesitate in giving Bucky a loose hug before placing a large, calloused hand on Shuri’s shoulder. 

“You must be the fiance that Buck here has told me about, lil’ miss Shuri. How are you settling in, little sister?”

She gives him a vicious, sharp toothed grin, looking him in the eye. Unlike Bucky, he seems to understand the unspoken threat that passes between them as Bucky speaks up on her behalf.

“She’s settling in just fine, Steve.”

Steve’s eyes don’t move from hers, staring her down intently but she refuses to back down. The tension between them is thick as it builds, creating a heavy feeling in the air. Peggy shifts on her feet, glancing between them with an uneasy, nervous smile, but Bucky either doesn’t notice it or ignores it, happily grinning at Steve.

“Don’t let up on this one, Bucky,” Steve’s voice is firm, as if he knows just how dangerous Shuri is. He gives her shoulder a squeeze that’s purposely a bit too tight before he lets her go. “She’s seems like she’s got some bite in her.”

“I don’t know, Steve, I think this one may just surprise all of us.”

_ Oh I will,  _ Shuri thinks, almost nonchalantly as she scopes out the rest of the church as they talk. She spots an even ratio of men to women, but may children speckled throughout the ‘couples.’ The children range in age, but all of them are younger than Shuri would like. She wonders just how many people in the church were once children wandering through the pews too and her jaw tenses as she knows that she won’t let these children become just like their families, that just like the omegas, she will get them out. 

At first glance, most of them seem to be somewhat normal southern families with wide brim hats, pearls and heels. But the closer she looks, the more she spots a few of the men that handle their women a bit too roughly. That some of the hats are hiding bruises on their heads while others hide bruises on their arms with long, white silky gloves. Some of the women seem to be fine at the surface, but those are the older ones who seemed to have accepted their fates while the younger the woman, the more apparent injuries she has. 

“Well, Paul said the same about Wanda and that girl ended up with a collar on her. Might want to collar yours too, no matter how nice she seems, none of these girls accept what they’re supposed to so fast. Always takes some training and some time.”

Shuri’s eyes snap back to Steve at the mention of Wanda. The confirmation that Wanda is actually here brings her short-lived joy when she realizes that the poor girl has to be suffering just beneath her nose and just out of her reach. The idea of a collar makes her stomach turn and her grip on Bucky’s arm falters as she resists the urge to hit the man in front of her, knowing that she can’t blow her cover just yet - not when she is  _ so close.  _

But the idea of Bucky collaring her, restraining her, worries her greatly. She can’t risk him putting more restraints on her, limiting her reach, when she is so close to accomplishing her mission. She can see the gears turning in his head as if he’s considering the idea. She swallows thickly and takes the moment to lean on him, gaining his attention as he looks down at her and she bats her long lashes at him with wide, puppy-dog, innocent eyes that seem to do the trick as he smiles brightly.

“Don’t think I’ll be collarin’ her just yet. She’s doing just fine, Steve, you’re worrying for nothing. Shuri’s an absolute lil’ angel.”

Steve doesn’t look so convinced, looking her over as if he’s trying to spot the weakness in her facade, but she smiles at him, softer this time with softer eyes that plead innocence and fear. It works. Just like Bucky, he seems to accept her act as he sighs, running his fingers through his hair with begrudging acceptance.

“Just keep it in mind, Buck. Come on, Peggy, service is about to start.”

Service is slow, boring, and makes Shuri want to throw up at every mention of what a ' woman's job is.’ Bucky whispers in her ear every so often, pointing out who is who. She nods along, remembering the names and faces as he lists them off, knowing just how important later.

He mentions the leader of the service as the preacher who is going to marry them sometime soon, Clint Barton. That Steve’s wife is Peggy, the baby is Peter and that they have one other son who is three. He points out a few others. The older black woman, who is the only other person of color that Shuri can see, is Ro. 

Nat is the redhead that keeps looking over her shoulder at them, looking at Shuri with calcuting eyes but covering it up with a smile every time that Bucky or the man with her notices. The man is Bruce, Bucky tells her, the town’s doctor. Bruce looks back at them with a harsh glare and hidden, angry eyes, seemingly upset that Nat keeps looking back at them.

Shuri doesn’t see Wanda anywhere, nor the mentioned Paul that has her. She hopes that she will get the pleasure of meeting them soon, for Wanda’s sake. Once she knows exactly where Wanda is, she decides, she will call in the agents. Then there will be no chance of this Paul taking Wanda away in the chaos, no way for her to slip through the cracks. 

After service, people flock to her like fresh meat, eager to meet the new face in town. Bucky is happy to introduce her as his to-be-wife and everyone acts as if she’s a long-lost member of the community. The friendliess would be a bit refreshing if not for the way some of the men openly talk about ‘reigning in’ their women or discussing the best ways to discipline their wives.

“Welcome, Shuri.” Nat greets her with a smile that Shuri immediately sees right through, instead paying more attention to the tension in Nat’s eyes. “It’s so nice to see a new face here that doesn’t need a diaper.”

Shuri sees the facade and the way that Nat is asking for help in the only way she knows how. She doesn’t know Nat, she doesn’t know how much Nat tells Bruce or how much the men here have Nat under control. But she can see that like her, Nat knows how to play the part to avoid the fights, to make things work in her advantage. 

Nat offers an outstretched hand that Shuri takes in a firm handshake and taking a bit of a chance, Shuri uses it to pull Nat in for a hug. Nat gives a sound of surprise, but Shuri hugs her tighter, squeezing her slightly, and Nat relaxes. The unspoken  _ I’m here for you _ passes between them with a melancholic understanding.

“I think we will become great friends.”

Despite the fake, upbeat energetic tone, there’s underlying sincerity that Shuri returns with a sad smile, watching as Bruce calls out for Nat and she hesitantly returns to him. 

“I think that it’s great you’re getting along with Nat,” Bucky gives her a big grin that makes Shuri want to hit him, “Her and Bruce have a hard time conceiving. She tends to stay sad a lot of the time, this is the happiest I’ve seen her. I think it would be good for her to have a girl around that doesn’t have a baby on her hip yet.”

“Are you sure her being sad has nothing to do with that angry brute,” Shuri doesn’t look him in the eyes, focused on the way that Bruce drags Nat around through the crowd with his nails digging harshly into her arm.

“Watch that tone, missy. Nat is my cousin. Her and Bruce were the perfect high school sweethearts. Even waited for him to get home when he left to get his degree and they’ve been a real good couple ever since. She’s a real sweet girl. I think you’ll like her.”

The chance of getting Bucky to like Shuri hanging out with Nat is pretty high. If she plays her cards right, she’ll get to see more of Nat and when the time comes, she’ll get to save her too.

Shuri turns to him, with a tight, strained grin, “Right, yes, I think I’ll get along swell with her.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I linked the fic that inspired this at the start, but just so there is no confusion - this fic is entirely based on On This Mountain by Nocturne1908. I was asked to do a fic that hit the same key points as it, with changes to Shuri and Bucky's dynamics and relationship, along with making Shuri an agent sent to get the omegas.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuri lets her guard down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW Warning - This Chapter contains smut

The ride back to the cabin is different this time. The soft country music lulls through the truck, creating an eerie atmosphere. Bucky is quiet this time - quieter than he’s ever been before and his face looks strained, as if he’s internally debating something. She’s not sure if he’s winning or losing, based on the white paleness of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel tightly. The muscles in his neck are tense and flexed and every time he glances at her, he looks away as if he can’t risk looking at her for too long.

Shuri can feel it, something filling up the air inside of the truck. A tension that wraps itself around her throat and makes it hard to breathe as it suffocates her, small drops of sweat beating down the back of her neck. She rolls down the window to try to ease it, but the only thing the fresh air does is calm the nausea that had built in her stomach. Her heart begins to race and she feels her cheeks getting warm. 

_ Get a hold of yourself, Shuri.  _ She tries to chaste herself. She tries to reign in this gut feeling of uneasiness, but the truth is, something about this trip is so vastly different than the others that she doesn’t know what to expect when they get to the cabin.

She thought that she did a good job today, smiling and shaking hands with everyone in town. Exchanged a few hugs with the women or children. Bucky didn’t say anything negative to her or about her. But the conversation that Bucky had with Steve swirls in her mind and she wonders if Steve managed to change Bucky’s mind about putting her in a collar. If she needs to be prepared for a fight and to call in the other agents at the risk of Wanda getting swept away in the chaos, or if she should continue the facade more, let it happen if it means getting just a bit more information. But she can’t imagine letting herself be put in such a humiliating position and she absently rubs at the back of her neck just at the thought of something wrapped around her throat. 

“Go ahead and fix dinner when you get inside.”

Bucky’s order is direct and lacks any of the nicknames he’s given her. She’s always hated the nicknames, but she swallows thickly as she prepares for the worst. Despite Bucky hardly looking at her during their trip home, he does come to open her door and help her out once they reach the cabin.

He doesn’t look her in the eyes when she takes his offered hand, his palms feeling softer than the calluses on his knuckles and oddly warm. She can see the vein popping out of his neck when she takes his hand, as if he didn’t expect her to accept it, but if he is in a bad mood, she hardly wants to make it any worse by denying an offered hand. Especially if it makes it less likely for him to collar her.

She interlocks her arm around his, mostly for the provided balance it offers in new heels against soft, unpaved ground, and to add more brownie points in her favor. She can feel how stiff the muscles in his arm are and when she glances at him, he’s still refusing to look directly at her. 

* * *

Shuri has to admit that she doesn’t love the fact that she is not given the chance to change into something more comfortable before cooking. She does, at least, kick her heels off to the side of the kitchen to give her feet a break before she rolls an ankle on the cabin’s wooden floors. Bucky’s pair of boots fell beside them as he took his seat at the table, but he doesn’t glance her away and offers little conversation. While she should be thrilled at the lack of attention, it creates a bit of worry to build up in her chest as her heart pounds. 

She loves surprises, going into a mission and not knowing what to expect, the challenge. It is, after all, one of the reasons she’s been playing along with Bucky for as long as she has. It offers a mental challenge that pushes her and brings her manipulation tactics to the table. She always loves being able to practice how to move things in her favor without the need of violence.

But she’s spent a good portion of her time getting used to Bucky’s schedule, his way of speaking, and what he expects of her. Yes, she’s had her fun in making sure he knew that she’s not wrapped around his finger and never will be, but she’s learned that unspoken line. The line that if crossed, could put her mission in jeopardy.

She begins to wonder if she dipped her toe across that line one too many times.

The thicker fabric of the dress isn’t made for standing over hot stoves and she can feel a bit of sweat glisten on her brow; she hopes that it’s just because of the dress that she begins to sweat. She dabs at it with a cloth before she serves dinner, hoping that it tastes better than it looks. 

Bucky looks at her this time, she supposes that’s a bit of progress, but the look in his eyes are hooded and heavy. Sultry. She knows that look, even if she doesn’t see as often as she’d like at times. That look of  _ hunger.  _ The internal debate of  _ should I dare do it?  _ The look you make at someone from across a dimly lit bar before you meet them in the bathroom in a drunken, sex-driven haze. The look you have when you act before you think, but it seems like Bucky is thinking about his actions pretty hard.

Despite the bit of relief as she realizes the reason for Bucky’s behavior, she still feels that pressure filling the room as it presses down into her chest and squeezes her throat. It makes her squirm and she hates the way that his intense blue eyes are starting to affect her. All it's  _ all _ starting to affect her. 

_ You’re an agent, damn it. Act like it. _

“You handled yourself really well today, sugar.” Bucky’s voice is thick, huskier than normal as if he’s having trouble finding his voice. “Acting all nice with everyone, not trying to get away…”

He swallows thickly, his eyes trailing down her figure, “And you look mighty nice when you’re dressed up like a proper lady.”

As much as she’d love to think negative things - like how good it would be to really show him just how much of a  _ proper lady _ she is when she shoves her fist into his eye - she just  _ can’t.  _ Her mind is starting to go blank,  _ hazy.  _ He looks at her as if he’s undressing her with his eyes and she just does nothing to hide herself from him, her chin raising into the air as she begins to feel a knot in her throat. She crosses her legs, squeezing her thighs as the energy becomes more palpable. 

She stands, hoping that moving a bit will ease her nerves and starts to put away the plates. She doesn’t say anything, not wanting to risk breaking the silence. But when her hands graze the plate in front of Bucky, she feels a large hand envelope her wrist and pull her down. 

She barely has time to adjust herself when she realizes that he’s pulled her into his lap, his hands finding their way to her waist and holding her in a tight grip. But no matter how strong his hands feel around her, she knows she could break free if she really wanted to. 

His face is close to hers, enough that she can feel his breath against her neck. Her hands are free and are wrapped around his own neck. She could easily press down on a few certain points and knock him out. She can already make out her plan, going step by step exactly what she could do and how easy it would be. Her fingers are grazing against the right spots, but they hover gently, fingertips lightly scraping against his skin. 

But it’s been a long since anyone has touched her like this, looked at her this way, and made her body feel  _ good. _ And he’s degranged, but he is attractive. He’s also the one making her feel like this and she’s beginning to really like the way she’s feeling right now. 

Her fingers find their way to his tousled hair and run through it, tugging on it softly as her body gives in the sensation that’s growing between her lips. She feels his surprisingly soft lips press against her neck, sucking along it gently as his hands squeeze her hips. 

“I told myself I wasn’t going to do this, not till we were properly married,” Bucky’s whisper is soft against her ear, “But you looked too good today, darling. I just can’t help it.”

She relates. Honestly she’s finding it very hard to control herself right now too and does little to fight that burn that’s growing in her chest and the wetness that’s starting to soak through her underwear.

His lips meet hers, gently at first, as if he didn’t know if she was going to pull away. When she doesn’t, hands pushing his head a bit further into her, her chest pressing against his as her legs spread and balance around his thigh, he kisses her harder. When his tongue grazes against her bottom, she opens her mouth to let him in.

The wetness between her thighs grows and she moves her hips to get that desperate need of friction against his denim thigh. She can feel his nails digging into her hips, feeling just as desperate as she is. 

They part briefly, panting for air, their foreheads just  _ barely _ touching. Bucky’s eyes are full of lust and while darker and cloudy, the edges around them are softer as he stands abruptly, catching her with his arms and holding her in a bridal position, close to his chest.

Shuri lets out a small squeak of surprise, but lets him carry her toward the back room. He nearly throws her onto the bed, almost a bit too roughly. She scrambles to slip out of the dress as he makes progress on getting out of his own clothes before he lands on top of her. While she’s opted to forego her underwear, the fabric of his boxers rub against her thighs.

His hands are pressed into the mattress beside her head as he trails hard kisses into her neck and along her collarbone. She writhes beneath him and if she had any logic left in her, it is definitely gone with the suckling just above her breast.

“You have such beautiful, brown skin that deserves to be loved on.”

His voice is muffled by her skin, but she barely registers his words. Her hands are trapped between their bodies and she takes that moment to touch the firm muscles on his chest, trailing her fingertips a bit dangerously low as they gently scratch just at the V of his waist. His hips buck at the gesture, a low growl in his throat. He moves, his hands going to her breasts. His fingertips graze at her nipples, igniting a fire in her lower regions. Her hands fly to above her head as her hips wiggle against his groin, letting out a long, soft moan.

Her moan encourages him to continue and he gives a small bite to her nipple before continuing to go lower. He places kisses along the v of her hip bone that send a lightning, tingling sensation up her spine. His hands dig into her thighs as he gently pries her legs open for him.

“Tonight’s about you, darling, don’t you worry about me. I want you to finish over my face and submit to me.”

She wasn’t worried about him - not at all. All she can do is focus on herself and as much as he wants this to be her submitting to him, her finally letting him take control of her, it’s anything but that. Tonight is  _ her  _ choice. It’s about  _ her _ pleasure. The way she sees it, despite her being on the bottom, she has him wrapped around her finger. 

It doesn’t stop her, however, from pouting and whining when he moves slowly. He takes his precious time, paying very special attention to the entire region near her lower lips. A long, sucking kiss to her inner thigh almost has her kicking him in the head, the sensations and  _ want _ becoming a lot to bare.

He chuckles and holds her thighs even tighter to keep her from moving. The denial of being able to move makes every inch of skin burn, becoming more and more sensitive with each kiss. Her hands wrap themselves in his hair as his tongue begins to make long, slow strokes against her entrance, lapping at it gently.  _ Teasing her.  _

“Don’t tease me. If you’re going to eat me out, then you better  _ eat me out.” _

Her voice is husky, soft and breathy as she struggles to be able to find the room in her lungs to talk. She takes a risk commanding him in the bedroom, not knowing if it will make him stop just so he can try to take control. But he doesn’t. He keeps going and going and  _ going.  _

His strokes become frantic, lapping at her like an eager dog, his tongue dipping in and out of her entrance. One of his hands goes to her clit, pinching it and rubbing fast circles that she knows will make her a bit sore tomorrow. She can feel it building within her, the need for release that she hasn’t really felt in a long time. 

It doesn’t take long for her to finish, cumming against his tongue as it dips inside of her. Her fingers tug a bit too hard on his hair as she finishes, her legs squeezing as her muscles tighten around his tongue before she collapses, her arms and legs falling limp. As she stares up at the ceiling above her, breathing heavily, the relief of finishing washing over her, she realizes that she made an absolutely horrible mistake.

She won’t make that mistake again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuri's facade begins to fade as she gets closer to the end of her mission, but will snapping on Bucky too early threaten it?

Shuri gets to spend the day on the town with Bucky as her ‘reward’ for being ‘such a good girl.’ While she’s a bit happy to get out of the cabin, the idea of him praising her just for the other night makes her skin crawl, especially when she feels nothing but regret over it. 

She can’t even bring herself to look at him. She’s not sure if that’s because she can’t trust herself to not do something like that again - as if seeing him would trigger it - or if because she doesn’t want to face the consequences of her actions. She’s not sure which answer she prefers. She spends the trip pressed as close as she can to the truck’s door. When Bucky’s hand stretches a bit too far to try to squeeze her knee, she presses her legs together and scoots even farther away from him. She is silent, bitter, and angry during their ride into town. She can barely uphold her facade with Bucky. For once in her career, she is struggling to continue going.

She feels like she just ate a hornet nest -  _ buzzing, stinging, swarming  _ inside of her, twisting her stomach until she can feel the bile threatening to rise in her throat. No matter how many times she brushed her teeth this morning, she can’t get rid of the sour, rotten, cotton-like taste in her mouth. All she can feel is the  _ anger _ boiling her veins.

When she’s angry with an enemy, she can hide it. She can swallow it and use it to her advantage. She can use quips and smart words. She can manipulate them, use her anger to motivate her. But when it’s aimed at herself? Her hands twitch at her sides and she focuses on counting the trees that they pass, not knowing what else she can do.

She can see how much it is annoying Bucky that she ‘isn’t showing the proper gratitude’ toward her ‘reward.’ After seeing how annoyed it made him, it brings her a bit of relief knowing that she can make him angry too and she vows that she won’t even give him a single smile today.  _ I will make him suffer.  _

The closer they get to town, like the church, it is filled with more people. It doesn’t look anything like the ghost town she came across. There’s minimal traffic, but at least the cars are moving this time around and don’t lack their drivers. Most people are bustling happily on foot, making their way from stores with lit up  _ open  _ signs and fresh produce. 

Knowing what this town looked like when she arrived, it feels surreal to see it so busy and alive. She recognizes a majority of them from the church service. Some of the men from church are either lacking the woman that they had church or have a different one. She wonders just how many ‘wives’ some of the men have and how many people she needs to plan on getting out. 

But this also means that she was right, they’re wary of outsiders. They all disappeared, so much in so that the town looked vacant, when she came in. Which means that they have a good warning system in place - if she wants her agents to come in as smoothly as possible, it would help if she could figure out just what that system is.

* * *

“Turn around, darling, I want to see the back.”

On numb legs, Shuri turns around on bare feet, her back facing Bucky to give him a view of the dress that he picked out. He originally wanted to join her in the dressing room. But the idea of him seeing her naked -  _ vulnerable -  _ made her skin itch. She can imagine just the type of things he may try to pull in the small room and she knows that if he tried any of it, then her last nerve would snap. 

But instead of telling him what was really on her mind, Shuri played it smart. She argued that it was too cramped and small for two people and that she is perfectly capable of dressing herself. Ultimately, after feeling how cramped it was behind the curtain for himself, he agreed with her. The small victory makes her turn with her head held high as she holds onto what dignity she has left around him. 

A small bench, full of discarded clothing, sits beside Bucky as he looks her over. She was pushy enough to get some of the things that she actually wanted (a free shopping spree is never something to turn down) and knows that the things he picked out will be burned once this whole thing is over. The difference between their picked choices are stark, with each of his clothing pieces being ultra-feminine and conservative while Shuri chooses more casual, yet lean clothing that will flatter her more than the potato sacks he would prefer.

“I like this one. We’ll get it and one of the ones you want, just because I feel nice today and this trip is your reward, afterall. It wouldn’t be fair for me to pick out everything.”

She turns to go back and change into her more comfortable clothing, disgust at the yellow dress she wears drips from her voice, “ _ How generous of you.” _

When they finally check out, she recognizes the cashier’s face as one of the men she barely met in passing at the church service. He doesn’t give her any attention, despite the smile on his face, his eyes are hollow as he solely looks to Bucky when they check out. He makes some off-hand comment about needing Bucky to come down sometime to check out his tractor, followed by a more crude remark about ‘needing some help disciplining his youngest.’ 

To her disgust, Bucky agrees. She makes a mental note to be sure to get the agents in before Bucky ever has the chance to get down to check that tractor.

Shuri keeps her eyes straight ahead of her as Bucky continues to parade her around town as if she’s a long lost relative of the town. He keeps talking to her as if she is going to be spending the rest of her life here, making comments every so often about what shops have the best deals and who she can bargain with. She doesn’t give him any reply, not even bothering to nod along or pretend as if she’s listening. He doesn’t seem to notice. 

She keeps the shopping bags in whatever hand is closest to Bucky as a way to keep him from holding her hand and so far, it does work. He keeps a reasonable distance between them, but when they pass by the preacher, she realizes that he’s going out of his way to make their relationship appear ‘decent.’ As if he didn’t devour her the other night. As if she is still a ' virgin’ (and she  _ wasn’t  _ \- she hasn’t been a virgin in a long time, but it doesn’t hurt to let Bucky think that - it creates less fights, but  _ boy _ did she really want to tell him now just to see him squirm at the idea of her being with someone else - reminding him that her body is  _ hers) _ . 

He doesn’t want the preacher to know that he ‘tainted’ her yet, before their marriage. That he couldn’t refrain from touching her. She wonders if he would actually get punished for it or if she would face the brute of it instead. Seeing the look on the preacher’s face as he passes by, she’s inclined to believe the latter. That punishing her  _ is _ Bucky’s punishment. 

She can’t quite place  _ why, _ but the idea of Bucky trying to act like he didn’t taste her - as if they hadn’t slept together - makes her blood boil and her eyes burn. She doesn’t like that that is what infuriates her more than the idea of being punished over it.

A part of her is relieved when she spots Nat a bit farther down on the sidewalk, grinning and waving them over.

The idea of seeing someone - anyone else that isn’t a bloody idiotic fake alpha man - in this town takes a weight off Shuri’s shoulders as her anger dwindles. Once they get close enough, Shuri can see that Nat’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes despite how big it stretches across her face. Nat’s eyes remain hollow - empty - and the smile is a forced reaction. No doubt she is playing the part that her husband wants her to play. 

But Shuri sees right through her, just as Shuri easily spots the faded bruises that makeup just can’t quite cover. She counts five in total - two on each of Nat’s wrists, one on her neck, a small one on her cheek and a larger one on her left shoulder. All are only just starting to fade and are hastily covered with smears of foundation that’s too thin to hide them.

Shuri looks around briefly, but doesn’t spot Bruce anywhere nearby. Nat’s still quick to give Shuri a tight hug, one that Shuri does return and for a moment, the world fades away as that moment of understanding passes between them. Shuri loosens her grasp when she sees Nat flinch when Shuri squeezes a bit too hard. 

“It’ll be alright,” Shuri whispers, soft enough for Nat to just barely hear her. 

The sincerity - as if Shuri knows something that Nat doesn’t - makes Nat pause, but she nods as a bit of her sadness leaks through the cracked creases of her smile as she struggles not to crack.

“Wanda’s back,” Nat returns to her forced smile, her voice a bit more strained as she forces herself to look at Bucky, “Paul wants to celebrate breaking her in. Bruce told me to find you two lovebirds and tell you that we’re all going to Paul’s tomorrow night for dinner. Supposed to be a real party.”

Nat gives a wink that looks just as odd coming from her as her forced smile. Shuri just watches her with sad eyes, feeling almost guilty that she’s glad that Wanda is ‘broken in’ if it means that she may get the chance to get to her. Hopefully there’s still enough of Wanda left to save and put back together. 

Bucky’s grin is genuine, “Well ain’t the bees’ knees! I haven’t seen Paul in a while since he had to focus so much on getting Wanda under control. Would be a great chance for everyone to have fun together and would give Shuri a chance to meet Paul’s girl since she’s new and all.”

_ Bees’ knees, _ Shuri thinks with morbid fascination over the dated term. She would find it amusing in better circumstances. But her focus quickly turns to the chance that’s arising for her to finally see where Wanda is; the idea of Wanda being so close that she can taste the mission coming to a dwindling end. A spark ignites in her eyes at the thought of every bloody bastard in town getting what’s coming to them sometime soon.

  
“I’d love to meet Wanda,” Shuri leans against Bucky’s arm, sweetening him, to make it so he can’t say no, “With all this talk about her, a girl can’t help but be curious.”

Nat looks at her oddly, glancing between Shuri and Bucky with a look of confused understanding. As if she realizes the turn in Shuri’s voice, the edge to her words, the double-meaning in how Shuri seems to say  _ Wanda  _ with an adept abnormal interest, the manipulation of her grasp on Bucky’s arm.

But at Shuri’s sharp toothed grin, Nat knows that she’s done the same thing more than once and it’s better for not to question it, especially when she’s growing curious as to what Shuri could possibly have up her sleeve.

* * *

Everything feels different when they get back to the cabin - lighter, maybe. The idea of seeing Wanda soon and putting this all to rest soon creates a bit more pep in her step. She, quite literally, cannot wait until tomorrow. To see Wanda for herself, see the condition she’s in, and to swoop her up before anyone has the chance to stop her. Wanda  _ and  _ Nat. And everyone else in this fucking town. 

They will all pay for what they’ve been doing, Shuri knows it and it just pushes her to be the one to do it. She cannot wait to see the looks on their faces when they’re carted away to face the justice that is  _ so rightfully deserved. _

But she makes a mistake. She gets too caught up on what can happen, in the future, that she loses herself in the present until she feels a hand squeeze her thigh at the dinner table. She snaps back to the harsh reality of what’s going on  _ now,  _ looking up at Bucky with wide eyes as he looms over her, a hooded gleam in his eyes.

“And just  _ what _ do you think you’re doing,” Shuri keeps her voice as even as she can, but the venom still drips from her words as she stands from the table, removing himself from her and creating distance between them.

“I just thought you did so well today, sweetheart, and I was thinking that maybe we should hop back into the bedroom to continue what we started the other day.”

The honey is so thick in his voice that she can taste it and it sickens her. She glances down to see the tightness of his jeans forming around his crotch. She knows that if she goes into the bedroom tonight, a lot more would happen than just some (what was then nice) oral sex. She doesn’t want that - even if it would be like last time, she doesn’t want it. She doesn’t want to submit herself to him. Not anymore. She can’t let her guard down again. Not when she’s so close. She refuses to lose herself in this. 

She thinks of the preacher, of Bucky’s careful glances and words and distance from her. His fear of the preacher finding out what they’ve been doing.  _ Now that, that I can use.  _

“We’re not married, Bucky,” she reminds him, calmly as she starts to walk to the other side of the table to add to the distance between them. For every step he takes toward her, she takes another step back. She won’t let him close the gap. “What would the preacher think of us getting all intimate before you’ve actually wed me? It’s not proper.”

Bucky snorts, but despite the way he’s trying to brush off what she’s saying, she can see the hesitation in his eyes. 

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t like it, doll. We both  _ loved _ it and I don’t see nothin’ wrong with doing something that feels so right.”

He continues to try to walk around the table toward her. She continues to evade him, but she doesn’t ignore the way he’s starting to get desperate. While she’s trying to keep her pace even and natural, his steps are getting sloppy. He takes large strides that are ready to run. 

“I don’t think that the preacher would agree with you and if you insist on all this, then I’m not above letting him know what you’ve been up to.”

That makes Bucky stop. He freezes for a moment, his eyes wide as if he can’t believe that she threatened him, before the anger starts to set in. His jaw locks and his muscles are tightened as he slams his palms onto the counter of the table, his nerves snapping. 

“Don’t you dare act like it’s all on me,” he spits, “You get your little dark ass over here. If you won’t let me love you, then I’ll punish you for even threatening to go to the preacher with this shit, you stupid girl. If you go to him, then he’ll be holding the shotgun as we get married on the spot. Don’t you realize how good I’ve been treating you?”

He lunges for her, his patience thinning and Shuri realizes that she may have crossed a line, but she doesn’t regret it. She also knows that despite the way that Bucky’s large frame is heading right for her, that she can take him. 

With an eerie calmness, she side steps out of his reaching grasp and hits him hard on the back of the neck. She moves too fast for him to keep up as she hits him in a well-memorized order. She doesn’t even have to think, her muscles reacting on instinct as she lands a precise hit to his stomach, groin, another to the side of his neck and between his shoulders.

He goes down easily. She doesn’t even break a sweat.  _ Almost too easy,  _ she thinks with amusement, her eyes twinkling.  _ I guess it is true what they say, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuri has a heartfelt conversation with Nat and Wanda, spurred after finding out the condition that Wanda is.

Shuri watches as Bucky wakes up from his spot on the couch, early the next morning. She could have taken the chance to call in the strike now, maybe go ahead and leave, save the others, but she knows that if she plays her cards right, then she could still get to go to the planned dinner. Get to see Wanda for herself first. Make sure she’s still alive and have a pinpoint on her location. Make sure that her chances for success are as high as it possibly can be. But mission or not, she’ll be damned if he lays a hand on her like that again. She’s already updated Coulson that they will be getting their location for Wanda soon and when she does, then the strike won’t be too far behind.

She’s already staged the scene. She’s dressed, fresh and ready for the day. Did a bit of her makeup just for that extra touch of  _ I couldn’t hurt a fly.  _ Wore the dress he picked out yesterday. Did some of the minor cleaning - aside from what she’s staged around him. She emptied out quite a few of the beer cans and bottles, placing them on the kitchen table and around him on the couch. He’ll wake up groggy, confused, and easily suggestible if she does this right. If she doesn’t, then maybe she’ll have to beat Wanda’s location out of him.

His eyes aren’t even fully open as he starts to stretch, slowly moving as he rubs at the aching spots behind his neck. Shuri stands close by, enough to make it look like she’s ready to help him, but not close enough for him to grab her. She plasters on the best  _ oh you poor baby _ face she can manage, brows furrowing with a small frown.

“Bucky? You had quite a lot to drink last night when we got home, I think you got too excited about our dinner party tonight with that -  _ oh what was his name, Paul? _ \- and got a head start.”

She gives a gentle laugh as he begins to sit up, blinking himself back to consciousness as he starts to take in the scattered bottles. His eyes scan each bottle. She gestures toward the waiting seltzer water and he takes it with furrowed brows.

“I - Was I really drinking last night? I thought that you -”

“-That I  _ what?” _

Bucky pauses, looking over her with squinted eyes. His mind feels fuzzy, uncertain, but he could have  _ sworn -  _ but Shuri blinks at him innocently, with wide eyes and long lashes that brush against her cheeks. The dress she wears highlights her smaller frame and lean, long legs. She looks anything but intimidating. She looks like the very image of southern beauty and grace, an angel that couldn’t hurt a fly.

Uncertain, but not really believing what he  _ thought  _ happened - and if he  _ did _ drink last night, then he could be misunderstanding what he thought happened. Maybe she was helping a drunk who thought she was attacking him or he got handsy while being too drunk and she led him to the couch instead. 

Something about any of those more logical explanations just does not settle right with him, but he can’t exactly place why, especially since the idea of her actually taking him down like he was a little kid is much more ridiculous. 

He downs the seltzer water.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

* * *

Paul’s place isn’t too far from Bucky’s own cabin, just a bit further up the mountain on the beaten path. He ends up being a lot closer than Shuri expected him to be, but blames that partly on the way that everyone talked about him at church as if he was miles away or gone for decades. The fact that his cabin isn’t too far off from the gravel road and while secluded, lacks the same amount of tree coverage that Bucky’s own cabin down, makes her mission a lot easier. 

Like Bucky’s, the cabin is fairly bare. Clean, form the looks of it, but a bit too clean and pristine. As if every rotten board is replaced the moment that it goes bad or that it gets repainted too often to cover up the dirt. She only counts two windows - one beating into the kitchen and the other is high up and too small for anyone to crawl through. The most old and beaten-looking thing in the entire area is an old cellar door just beside the cabin, looking out of place with a few holes setting in the wooden door. She spots the chains that are knocked just behind the raised door and the hooks on the side of the cellar. She swallows thickly.

When she gets out of the truck, taking Bucky’s offered hand, she gazes up at the opened skies that seem to highlight the cabin. Something about the open sun being so close by to the cabin that already feels and looks more like a prison is unsettling. But she imagines that bad weather, the cabin takes a hard hit. The holes in the cellar would most likely cause it to flood too. 

She rolls her shoulders, reminds herself why she’s here, and takes a step forward toward where Nat is waiting on the porch with a lit cigarette. The bruises Nat harbored the other day are turning yellow and seem to be healing nicely, but Shuri frowns at the new ones that had appeared. 

Nat drops the cigarette and outs with her heel when she spots Bucky, giving him an impish grin, almost as if she’s apologizing for something that she’s not really sorry for. Shuri can see the unapologetic gleam in her eyes. But Bucky just smiles, greeting her as he pulls her into a hug, squeezing her a bit too tightly and whispering something in her ear. Shuri can’t make it all out, but she got the gist that he wasn’t the biggest fan of Nat smoking old cigars.

“Dinner’s already out on the table,” Nat informs them as she goes directly to Shuri’s side the moment that Bucky steps away. She walks Shuri into the house as Bucky holds the door open for them. “Bruce and Paul are already talking about playin’ a hand of poker or two over drinks after dinner.”

“Sounds like a good time,” Bucky nods approvingly, “Is Wanda out and about? You can take Shuri over to meet her.”

Nat nods and Shuri is pulled along through a hallway as soon as they’re inside as Bucky walks the opposite way, heading toward a dimly lit kitchen table where she can hear Bruce and another man speaking. 

“I should warn you,” Nat whispers into Shuri’s ear, the hand on her arm that’s pulling her along squeezes her muscle tightly, “Wanda’s not so fine and dandy as the others think she is. She went to the restroom pretty soon after I got here and I don’t think she’s come out yet. I don’t know what shape she will be in for dinner.”

There’s an honesty to Nat’s words, a sadness seeping from them as Nat drops her facade to be open about Wanda’s state of mind and appearance. From the sounds of it, Nat doesn’t know how bad of shape Wanda will be in since she didn’t get a good look at her before she disappeared. The fact that Nat seems to expect her to be in rough shape makes Shuri’s mouth go dry.

Nat stops them at a door in the narrow hallway. Shuri counts three bedrooms and two additional doors. The one they stopped at must be the bathroom that Nat mentioned, Shuri can see light coming from the bottom door. Far enough from the commotion in the kitchen, Shuri can hear soft sobs coming from inside and her heart tightens. 

Nat knocks on the door lightly with the edges of her knuckles, “Wanda. It’s me. There’s someone here I want you to meet.”

There’s a pause. A moment of hesitation before the door creaks open slowly and a soft, broken face peers at them through a crack in the door before opening up, allowing them to come into the bathroom with her. 

The shaking light bulb in the bathroom does little to hide Wanda’s beaten appearance. A leather collar digs into her neck, being at least one notch too tight. A lock dangles from the belt of the collar, locking it in place, but Shuri can see the scratch marks in the leather where Wanda tried to rip it off. Shuri doesn’t have the heart to read the tag attached to the hoop of the collar, instead focusing on the other aspects of Wanda’s beaten appearance.

Shuri’s jaw locks, tensing as Wanda rubs at the bruises on her arms. The worst one is on her cheek, despite it starting to turn yellow, the edges of it are such a dark shade of purple, it almost looks black. She can see the edges of whip marks on the exposed skin of Wanda’s hip as her shirt rides up, likely from it looking like it’s a size too small. She doesn’t know what injuries the rest of her clothes hide, but Shuri feels her stomach turn as rage begins to boil in her veins.

Wanda looks up at Shuri, with hollow eyes that lack an inner light. She doesn’t even give any outward indication that she recognizes Shuri, or knows who she is. Or she doesn’t have the energy to care. Shuri remembers the bright young eyes of Wanda from months ago, comparing it to what she sees of Wanda now makes her want to walk into that kitchen and take care of it now. Her hands twitch at her sides, fingers tapping against her leg as her breathing becomes harbored. 

“This is Shuri, Bucky picked her out.” Nat’s choice of words are careful, but speak volumes of just how much of an apparent choice that Shuri had. “We’ll get you taken care of before dinner, just a bit of the right makeup can do wonders.”

* * *

Shuri sits through dinner with the same silent, calm fury that she had while she helped Nat cover up Wanda’s injuries; Shuri suspects that she knows exactly why Nat carries so much makeup in her small purse. She sits between Wanda and Paul with a forced smile and calm insistence that she wants to get to know her new friend better; a move that doesn’t go unnoticed by Nat, who gives her a small smile as she places herself on the other side of Wanda for added measure with the argument that it’s ‘good for the girls to get to talk some.’

Shuri barely touches her dinner with the same insistence that what she did taste was delicious, but she simply lost her appetite. Bucky watches her with curious concern, while Paul mumbles something under his breath that she doesn’t catch. But she can tell how his mumbled words cause Wanda to tense in anticipation beside her. 

The moment that dinner is finished and the women are all but kicked out of the kitchen as the ‘men are going to play a good hand of poker over some good beer.’ Shuri resists commenting on the fact that she knows that their beer tastes like piss and if they want good beer, they’d actually cough up the few extra bucks for it.

Either way, Nat ushers both her and Wanda out of the kitchen with whispered, hushed excitement that makeup is not the only thing she’s snuck into her purse. Shuri isn’t sure what to expect from Nat, almost expecting her to pull a six pack from her too small purse. But then she finds herself in the cramped bathroom with the two girls holding a hastily rolled up blunt that she, honestly, could really use.

Shuri sits on the floor, her legs crossed in a ‘not-so-ladylike’ way while Nat sits on the edge of the bathtub, almost falling in from her body seems to sway from her long, drawn hit from her own blunt. Wanda sits on the closed lid of the pot, quiet, and politely refusing the blunt, but not ratting them out either. Shuri can’t even be happy with how clean the bathroom is knowing the conditions it was forced under.

“This is all bullshit,” Shuri finally speaks up, her cap on her frustration loosening by her second blunt. Despite the drug helping ease the actual fire in her veins, it can’t drown out her sense of wanting to right these wrongs, wanting to help, and wanting to put the bastards in jail for what they’ve been doing in - or killing them herself.

Nat raises a neatly trimmed brow, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees as she releases the smoke in her mouth. Wanda is the one who is smart enough to open the small vent in the small bathroom along with the all-too-small window that she has to stand on top of the toilet to reach. Shuri notes that the size of it makes it an impossible escape route, but wonders if Wanda had tried to fit through it at one point anyway. She takes another, careful to blow the smoke away from Wanda’s face.

“What’s bullshit,” Nat asks curiously, her voice more firm and at a lower pitch than Shuri is used to hearing, likely from Nat relaxing and dropping a bit of the wall she’s built up. Or the blunts are starting to hit her. But hearing the curse word a second time makes Wanda flinch. 

“Can we all just please stop cursing and hurry this up,” Wanda’s voice has the quiet, rough tone that comes when you haven’t used your voice in a while or you’ve worn it out from screaming, “I don’t want them finding us in here like this.”

It’s the first time Shuri sees some sort of emotion from Wanda, the desperate fear in her voice and the dilated pupils of her eyes. It just proves Shuri’s point.

“See, that’s exactly what I mean,” Shuri insists, lowering her voice at the reminder that they’re not the only ones in the house. Despite starting to feel the high, she had chosen to sit on the floor so that she was the closest to the door for a reason. 

Nat nods in understanding, while Wanda glances between them with a bit of fear and confusion. Shuri places a hand on Wanda’s knee and squeezes it, a sign of comfort, but Wanda flinches and closes her eyes, tensing as she waits for something that isn’t coming. After a moment, she opens her eyes. Shuri’s hand is still on her knee and Shuri is watching her, waiting for that moment of realization that finally comes as Wanda looks into calm, supporting eyes. Nat holds out her hand, a blunt between her fingers, and this time, Wanda accepts it.

“Tell me, honestly,” Shuri’s voice is low, “Do you really love Bruce, Nat?”

The way Nat sits there, eyes toward the ground, her elbows on her knees as she lights a blunt between her legs makes her look older. The creases in her eyes are more defined as she drops her smile. When she looks closely, Shuri can see the beginning of tears in the corner of Nat’s eyes. 

“I don’t know. Everyone was telling me that I loved him, so I think I did. But he used to be so different in high school and you should have seen how he was when he came from med school, it was like being out of this town did something to him - something  _ good. _ Like he forgot how things are supposed to be, but  _ fuck _ did he remember pretty quick.”

She took a long drag from the freshly lit joint, taking her time with it as she blows the smoke up toward the ceiling. When she finally looks up toward the light, Shuri can see the streaks of dried tears down her cheeks.

“I think I still love him sometimes, on the good days that we all get.”

An image of Bucky’s face between her thighs flashes in her mind and Shuri lets out a shuddering breath of smoke before taking another one, wanting to get rid of that image. 

“But I hate that I didn’t get to choose. I know that none of us get to choose this. Some of the girls are happy with that, but they were raised to. I’m reminded of that every time some new dame comes in and has to be taught the rules. But it goes beyond that -”

Nat’s voice becomes a bit harsher, more angered as the words just start to flow out of her mouth before she can think. For the first time in a long time, she feels like she actually  _ talk - really talk, say what’s on her mind -  _ and now that she can, she doesn’t want to stop.

“- When Bruce left for med school, I wanted to go too. I wanted to try to get into the same university and everything. Fucking hell, I did the work for it. I passed every damn test that they put in front of me and the better I did in school, the more I realized that I  _ wanted _ to go to the university. Not just for Bruce. Everyone kept telling me I shouldn’t go and I listened. Looking back, I realized that they wouldn’t have let me anyway. That they just gave me the  _ illusion  _ of choice.”

She flicks her joint and watches the ashes hit the tiled floor with an angry snarl. Shuri wonders just how long she’s kept all that in, close to her chest, just to avoid the trouble. Wanda watches them, taking shaky, uncertain blows from her joint, her foot tapping against the floor with anxious energy. Shuri glances toward her and looks closely at the collar that’s still attached to her neck. Wanda notices the look and places her free hand on it, rubbing against the skin of her neck as if it would suddenly come off.

“I - I shouldn’t say anything bad about Paul,” Wanda insists.

“But do you want to say bad things about him,” Shuri presses gently, “If you could, would you do whatever you wanted? Would you leave, either of you?”

Wanda’s tapping against the floor gets more rapid, impatient, uncertain. Nat grows oddly silent.

“I - I tried,” Wanda’s eyes swell as tears start to build up in her eyes, “I tried, but I couldn’t - and  _ nothing works, I’ve tried everything.” _

Nat watches Wanda with a morbid sense of understanding, Shuri realizes that like Wanda, Nat must’ve at least tried to get out at one point too. Her nails dig into her joint as she realizes just how many of the girls must’ve tried - and failed - and given up because they thought that they couldn’t, that there just wasn’t a point in fighting anymore.

When Nat glances toward Shuri, turning her attention away from Wanda’s nervous tapping, she sees the fire in Shuri’s eyes. Its warmth reaches her in a way that she hasn’t felt before, igniting a flame in her chest as she realizes that wherever Shuri is going with all of this, she is  _ serious,  _ and that if came down to it, Nat would do whatever it took to help.

“Sheriff Rodgers has eyes everywhere,” Nat piques up, gaining Shuri’s rapt attention, “He placed cameras on the welcome signs on each side of town to watch for incoming, unfamiliar cars. He’ll pull over the ones that he can, or put up roadblocks every so often to get people to go around the town.”

Nat continues, despite the way that Wanda is trying to warn her not to, “The church bell is the warning bell. He tells the preacher when to pull it and when it rings, we all dive for the nearest hiding spot. Lots of the boys hide their wives or lock them up if they’re in the cabins. If we don’t hide, we get in serious trouble. Trying to get attention for help don’t work any either, Sheriff watches us all, really carefully and there’s a lot by his station for the girls who try to get help from any of the cars coming in. The bell rings again for the all clear. Bucky’s one of the few that don’t hide, he didn’t have a reason to since he didn’t have any wife yet, and he runs the gas station so he could use any money he can get from lost travelers.”

Shuri takes the information in, processing it with a predatory grin that unnerves Wanda. Even Nat looks a bit uncomfortable by the grin, knowing that grin. The grin of someone planning something very devious. Someone who knows that they will succeed. 

“Listen, very carefully,” Shuri whispers, coughing when the smoke hits her wrong in the throat, “I want you both to get ready. Don’t act any different, don’t say anything. Just be sure to have anything you’d want to have with you on hand, or all together in the same place. Get word out to any other girl you can trust to keep their mouth shut, but I am going to get you all out of here.”

The confidence in her voice is unmatched and unquestionable. Nat isn’t sure what she’s planning or why she’s so adamant that it will work, but she can’t help but find herself believing in Shuri and from the look on Wanda’s face, she’s not the only one soaking in the one bit of ray of hope that they’ve had in a long time. 


	9. Chapter 9

All Shuri can think of is when to make the call. It has been one full day. That should be enough time for Wanda and Natasha to have warned the other girls stuck there, enough for them to prepare, but should she give them one more day? Should she risk one of the girls exposing their plans? She didn’t expect to face this type of dilemma, she wanted to call them as soon as she saw Wanda, but things changed. She saw the chance to tell Nat and Wanda, to let them tell others so that they can prepare and know that there is still hope, to live for just a little bit longer, and she took that chance.

She wasn’t specific when she talked to Nat and Wanda, but it would be easy for the idea of ‘escaping’ to be tracked back to her. She knows Nat would never rat her out, but Wanda is scared, she’s used and on the verge of breaking down entirely. If Paul pushes her enough, Wanda might spill and Shuri couldn’t bring herself to blame her if she did - or any of the other girls who might spill the beans that someone is planning an uprising due to fear, torture, humiliation, or any of the other abusive tactics that these sons of bitches use.

Though, by that logic, could she really blame any of the women who may spill because they don’t like the idea of everyone getting arrested? The women who have lived here for decades, who are scared of change and too brainwashed to realize the abuse in front of their eyes, the ones who bury themselves in denial to be able to live their lives as normally as they could. 

Or did any of them actually believe it if they did hear? Did the women from that church - the ones with hollow eyes and babies on their knees - know that help is coming or do they refuse to believe it because they’ve had their hopes for escaping dashed too many times like Wanda?

Shuri sighs and rests her back against the cold, wet, shower wall of Bucky’s cabin. She thinks about the Sheriff, the non-consensual wife he took from her home, and wonders if she got word. She wonders if she was able to pack up what she needed while looking after a baby at the same time. 

She can’t risk it, she can’t risk any of these bastards getting away because they bullied and abused someone into giving them a heads up. She  _ has _ to get the women out of there.

She presses her bracelet together, signaling Coulson, and whispers her plan. She didn’t contact him yesterday, with too much at stake to risk Bucky overhearing her, but now all the information she’s learned comes out as whispers that are muffled by the running water of the shower.

She tells him all that he missed, including the exact directions needed to get to both her cabin and to Paul’s, going over exactly what beaten path to follow and which tree to turn at.

“Sheriff has eyes everywhere, Coulson. Cameras at each of the welcome signs on the edges of town and helicopters may get spotted. May need to send in a discreet squad with the ATVs to get down here until you get your cuffs on the sheriff yourself.”

_ “Well, avoiding cameras isn’t exactly anything new for us… What about this Nat woman? Do you think she’ll spread the word discreetly or will she rat us out before we can get there?” _

Shuri remembers the determination in Nat’s eyes, the motivation in her voice, the firmness of her decision to get out and to get as many of the girls out as they can along the way. It was the only time Shuri saw something other than sadness from the woman. It was like an old fire had been reignited and the amount of hope, trust, and  _ belief _ that Nat looked to Shuri with - despite the hesitation and caution, Nat looked like she  _ wanted  _ to believe Shuri as much as Wanda wanted to.

But she doesn’t say that to Coulson - she can’t - there’s no way you can explain those types of looks to someone. Besides, a part of her knows that he’s right, as much as Shuri does believe in Nat, there is never a guarantee that she isn’t going to warn anyone to get them out before the raid.

“Second guessing my skills, Couslon, I must say that is rather bold for you,” Shuri teases, her voice light and forced.

_ “-Hey what’s that supposed to mean? We’re supposed to be working together and I wouldn’t be a good partner if I didn’t remind you of SHIELD 101.” _

“- don’t trust anyone but yourself,” Shuri says, her voice echoing over Coulson’s own, as she rolls her eyes with amusement.

She could hear Coulson chuckling a bit before he pauses, deep in thought, before he finally speaks up. Despite the situation, Coulson never has been this chatty mid-mission before a raid, but she can only imagine how human-deprived he is in a tent all by himself with a little bathroom shovel.

_ “...What about Wanda though? Is she ready to go?” _

Shuri thinks of the the dull, lifeless eyes that looked at her with so much helplessness. Her lips thin, “She’s not just ready, she needs to get out  _ now. _ Send some of the paramedics to her location with some of the agents.”

She pauses and then continues, “ - and a good utility knife.”

_ “- a utility knife?” _

Shuri thinks of the beaten leather collar that was marred with fingernail scratches, the thick leather of it and how it will take more than a pair of rusty kitchen scissors to get off.

“Yes - a good one or a rotary cutter may get the job done. They’ll know what to do with it when they find her.”

Shuri continues to go over the plan with him in hushed towns, exactly how he needs to have the squad come into town, which players they need to take care of first - Wanda and the Sheriff taking priority. Wanda due to her physical and mental condition and the Sheriff due to his powerful influence over the town. She has no doubts that if they take him down first, then the others will crumble like the cowards that they are. 

She gives strict instructions to not worry about her, to come get Bucky last, that she will stall him until they get here. Something that will be easy, Shuri believes, until she ends the conversation, finishes getting dressed, and steps out of the bathroom to see Bucky standing on the other side of the door with dark eyes, his arms crossed against his chest.

“Who were you talkin’ to you, doll? Thought I heard your voice in there.”

Shuri gives an easy smile despite the pounding in her chest, dancing on her feet to get around him with grace. 

“Myself, of course. Not a crime, last I checked, to get your thoughts out for yourself and talk to yourself in the mirror. Good confidence boost.”

Shuri walks down the hall, wanting to get them to a more open space, to add distance between them. She keeps an eye over her shoulder, watching him follow her with hesitation and furrowed brows. She doesn’t miss the way that he glances into the bathroom before he follows, as if he may be able to catch someone hiding behind the curtain or stuck in the small window.

“What do you want for dinner tonight? I was thinking of doing some hash, something simple, but filling.”

She tries to keep the conversation light and natural, not wanting him to focus too much on any one part of her sentence or think too hard about what he thinks he heard her say in the bathroom.

She could, honestly, beat herself up at the moment, her throat tight and her mind spinning. She can’t have him of all people ruin this for her, all because she didn’t pay enough attention to the door. She can’t have this entire mission ruined over one rookie mistake and one stupidly handsome backwater cowboy.

They stop in the living room, as Bucky’s pace behind her slows. She spins around to face him, grin plastered on from cheek to cheek. She wishes that she had brought her shoes into the bathroom, just to have something between her toes and the wooden floors - shoes would offer a chance to run, add more strength to any kicks, and lessen the chance of her getting any splinters from just walking down the beaten hall.

Bucky hardly seems to be paying her any mind, his eyes lost in thought, arms crossed back against his chest with a tight frown. 

“You know, darling, I’m beginning to think that this is just one of the few things that are just not quite addin’ up for me.”

He meets her gaze and doesn’t flinch, he stands tall with his head high. His eyes become hooded and shadowed as the furrow on his browns deepen. Shuri, despite that there are many other things that she should be thinking about at the moment, can’t help but think that the look on his face seems to break the illusion of a ‘handsome cowboy.’ The frown just highlights the creases at his mouth and eyes, making him look older, darker, more serious.

She can finally see the resemblance between him and Steve Rodgers. She can also see that he is definitely starting to get closer to her, his figure starting to shadow over hers. She takes a step back for every step forward he takes. She raises her hands as a sign of peace, smile still on her face, and hears Coulson’s whispered tone through the bracelet that the raid has started. He has Wanda - and the Sheriff.

Which means that all she has to do is stall him until someone comes by to arrest him - if she doesn’t knock him out first. It means that she doesn’t have to play nice anymore, but she can  _ play _ with him and enjoy every single moment of this. 

“I know that something ain’t right with how I woke up on the couch and it took me a minute to realize why. You’re a smart girl, darling, smarter than some of ‘em others up here. But I didn’t smell a lick of liquor on me. Wasn’t too sick ‘neither. Then I smelled it all in the sink. I’m figurin’ that you dumped it all down the sink and staged it to make me think I just drank myself out. I don’t remember too much of that night, don’t know if ya finally found the drugs and drugged me or what.”

He takes another step forward, her grin doesn’t falter as he gets too close to her. 

“But I do remember what I asked ya that night - askin’ you to come to bed.”

She takes pleasure in dodging the way he lunges for her, ducking around him with ease and a small laugh. She hears the way that he growls, grumbling and cursing at her under his breath, but he turns to go after her again. While her grin is predatory, it’s mysterious, mirroring a cat playing with its mouse. His, however, looks like the big bad wolf - hungry, angry, ravenous,  _ alpha. _

But she doesn’t falter. She is fully prepared to let him huff and puff all he wants, but when by the end of this, she won’t be the one going down.

“I didn’t have to ask you know,” his hands wave around, flaunting about the room before he starts to gesture toward himself, “ _ I  _ could have taken you, you know. Didn’t have to ask or nothin’. Could have waited until you were sleepin’ like I almost did the first night you were ‘ere. Could’ve drugged ya. Could’ve done a lot of things, but I’m a nice guy.”

He takes a deep breath, rolling his shoulders, and he looks at her with a feign calmness - a mask that’s cracked, forced, and she sees right through it. It mirrors her own, but it’s unpolished, untrained, and not perfect like the mask she’s had these past few weeks.

“But I’m just very done being nice, sweetheart and if you don’t tell me what happened and stop all this nonsense, I am going to put you over my knee and spank you just like the bad girl you’ve been.”

_ Oh a threat.  _ Delighted and amused that he really thinks that he can threaten her, she sits on the armrest of the couch, crossing her legs with a smile as she swings her feet almost innocently. He takes a step back, unsure of how to respond to her lack of reaction, but Shuri can see his fists clenching, his nails making indents in his palm.

“I have been a bad girl, haven’t I,” her eyes twinkle, her tongue darting out to lick her bottom lip, “But I like being bad, Bucky, so bad one could say I really am  _ good. _ So good in fact that I took you down like you the coward you are.”

She glances at her nails, raising her hand up casually as she does so. A part of her wonders if they’re sharp enough to do damage, the other part wondering if she should get a manicure when she gets back home.  _ Oh maybe I could take Nat and Wanda. A spa day after all this trauma. I’m sure Fury wouldn’t mind me charging SHEILD’s credit card for it if it’s for recovery.  _ She glances back toward Bucky, almost forgetting that she’s ‘ _ supposed _ ’ to be taking him seriously right now. 

“I’ll take you down again, you know,” Shuri’s eyes burn in the lowlight of the cabin, lighting up her face brilliantly, “If the others don’t get here first, you know? Had to call them in after I saw the state Wanda was in yesterday, but they already told me that they have her. Paul too, I’m sure, and he’ll be getting what he deserves. Just like the rest of you will be.”

Her grin is dangerous, serious. Untamed and slightly unhinged with sharp edges. 

“You really think you lot could be doing what you’re doing up here without SHIELD eventually taking notice?”

That makes Bucky stop - if for a moment. He tenses, freezing as he processes what it is that she’s telling him. The name  _ SHIELD _ causes all the hair on the back of his neck to go straight up, goosebumps starting to pop up over his thicker arms. 

Shuri’s feathers fluff at his reaction, taking in great delight the way it makes him shiver in his boots, that he’s quaking in fear like the lowlife he is. 

It is a justified reaction, she knows.  _ SHIELD _ has always been the boogey-man that everyone’s warned about. The ones that come in and take you out before you knew that they were even there - the ones that have the spies, the heroes, the villains, all under their thumbs.  _ No they weren’t the boogey-man. _

They’re everything that the boogey-man is afraid of. 

_ She _ is what the boogey-man fears.

“No,” Bucky shakes his head, as if finally coming to his sense, a grin back on his face as he takes a step forward, looking her over as he laughs, “No, not a little thing like you. Don’t go throwin’ names like that around ‘ere, darling. ‘Specially when you don't have any idea what you’re really talking about.”

He grins and he raises his hands to pop his calloused knuckles, a visible threat that doesn’t phase her.

“You’re delusional darling,” the laughter is still in his voice, “Absolutely batshit. I thought you were a spitfire, but  _ this?  _ Really? Thinking that someone is gonna be bustin’ in to save you? Thinkin’ that SHIELD even gives a rat’s ass about this place? About  _ you?  _ If you’re that crazy and unreasonable, looks like I’m gonna have to  _ beat _ you to reason. Beat that crazy right out of ya.”

His grin is crooked, she notes with a laugh, just like him. The more unhinged he gets, the more it shows and the more she wonders why she ever let a man like that even touch her. It’s like watching a glass of one of mirror mazes shatter right when you’re in the middle of it, destroying the illusion before your eyes. She doesn’t see a handsome, or charming, farm boy. She sees a crazed man. A backwater bully who is the  _ real _ delusional one.

She wonders just how many of the girls in town are watching that glass shatter. She wonders how many of them are getting cut trying to pick up the pieces of it, to build it back up, and how many are taking it as a chance to finally get out of this never-ending maze.

When Bucky lunges for, she yawns and her dodge is graceful, but lazy. As he runs after her, she avoids him like it’s muscle memory. His moves are frantic, crazy, strong, and impulsive. Hers are strategic, thoughtful, light on her toes and come as easy to her as breathing as he struggles to figure out how to catch her.

She’s getting bored playing with him now. It was fun to break him a bit, rattle him the way he deserves. But she wants to get to town. Help settle the crying women who are losing their husbands of ten or so years and don’t know how to break out of this delusion. Fix up the beaten ones. Carry the babies of the girls’ whose arms are too weak or too young for the weight of a babe. Check on Nat and Wanda for herself. 

“Honestly, just how long are you going to keep this up,” Shuri stretches, a bored expression on her face that infuriates Bucky as he lets out a cry and lunges for again.

Tired and wanting to end this, she lets him get in close this time. She steps away at the last moment, sticking her toes out just enough to trip him up. When he tumbles toward the ground, using his arms to support his weight, she jumps and lands on the crook just above the elbow with the ball of her foot.

His arms crumble, the one she landed on breaks from the force, and she steps off of him with an off-hand thought of how much better (and easier) it would have been in heels. She can hear the sirens now and the rumble of oncoming agents. As he nurses his broken arm, she uses her feet to push him onto his back. He rolls without much resistance, his ears ringing.

She rolls onto him, her side just below his neck. Her back faces him while his arms are pinned in front of her own. Her elbow presses on the floor with her other arm wrapped just below his elbows, free to stop anything he may try. With her weight and position, no matter how he begins to wiggle, he can’t shake her off. When he tries to stand, she knocks his knees with her free hand and he goes down again. 

The door to his cabin opens. He can’t see who it is, while Shuri turns her face toward the door with a bright grin.

“Coulson,” Shuri greets with a chirp, “We were having a grand time waiting for you.”


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky still can’t wrap his head around what’s happening, nothing processing as his ears continue to ring and his body starts to go numb. His neck is throbbing from Shuri’s hold -  _ small, delicate, lovely, Shuri holding him down like he weighs nothing, as if she’s in control, as if she has more power over him than he does.  _ She gets off of him and he almost lunges for her again -  _ to hold her or to strangle her?  _ He doesn’t get the chance to get his hands on her to find out. Two strong men immediately grab him from behind, starting to drag him away despite the way that his heels try to dig into the floor.

Shuri watches, not afraid to meet his gaze with a calm superiority. Her heart beat starts to slow, the adrenaline leaving her system as she starts to process that this all really is over now. Bucky looks to her in desperation and confusion, his brows furrowed deeply as tears bristle in the corners of his eyes.

She’s not sure why he’s the one crying or if he’s crying because he got caught or is frustrated at her. She almost hopes for the later. She wants him to be frustrated at her - she wants him to know that  _ she _ is the one who got him caught, that  _ she _ is the one who has really been behind this the entire time. She wants him to live with that as he rots.

“Shuri, darling,” he pleads out to her, like a cow going to slaughter - or a monster begging for their life. “Don’t do this, doll. You know that I love you, sweetheart. I wouldn’t do any of this if I didn’t.”

Shuri snorts and Couslon, who stands beside her in silent support, takes a step forward. She stops him and he listens, taking a step back for her to take the lead.

“ _ Love?”  _ She scrunches her nose in a bit of disgust, “You’re too focused on the belief that any of this is  _ love  _ that you never even asked if it was returned because that didn’t matter to you, did it?”

He’s on his knees, knocked down by the men trying to drag him away. She gets close to him, close enough to breathe down his neck. Each breath that hits his skin makes his blood run cold, a rabbit feeling the breath of a wolf before they bite into the neck and go in for the kill. 

“You’re nothing but a monster,” Shuri whispers softly, not out of fear or shame, but out of spite. Her words are for him, not for the agents surrounding them. “The real shame is that if you had been a decent bloke, one that didn’t have these delusions of control and abuse… I could see us having a shot should you’ve courted me like a real lad.”

She blows on his ear and resists the urge to punch him, but she pulls away with a dangerous smile, teeth gleaming in the dim light of the setting sun that beats down in through the windows.

He just watches her, not speaking up again, her words echoing in his ears, as he gets taken away without a fight. Shuri waves a chipper goodbye, Coulson watching her with a raised brow from the corner of his eyes. As Bucky gets tossed into a waiting van, cuffed and ready for court, she glances toward the expression on Coulson’s face.

“What?”

Coulson’s lips thin as he shakes his head with a mix of disbelief and amusement, “I didn’t say anything.”

Shuri’s eyes squint, but she can’t quite place his expression. When he doesn’t offer any explanation, she decides to let it go - for now.

* * *

The town’s in chaos - utter, complete chaos that makes it hard to decipher any one thing. Shuri expected it to be bad, honestly, but just because you’re expecting to see something, doesn’t mean it’s any easier to actually watch. Like a soldier knowing that there will be innocent victims, actually seeing the aftermath of war on a village. This is  _ her _ aftermath. 

But it’s hard to look at the big picture - the hysterical wives and children, the cries of babies, the smell of gunfire of the ones that fought back, the sound of blaring sirens. She decides it’s easier to take in one bit at time, looking at one scene, processing it, then moving on to the next. Each scene still makes her heart ache, makes her want to help even more. 

She spots more than one woman or child fighting against the agents or medics, some chasing after their husbands in cuffs. One tries to hit one of the agents, but he dodges her and restrains her instead, holding her tightly until she gives up, falling to her knees with hysteric sobs.

She winces when someone, whose young and bruised, punches one of the medics, who takes it in stride as the victim immediately apologizes through sobs. She imagines that having someone actually trying to help you is a big shock to their system. She knows what it's like to react on instinct. 

One woman that she spots is beaten pretty badly - she’s older than Shuri, but is younger than most of the women, with a face that could’ve been pretty if it wasn’t swollen and purple. The wounds are fresh, deep cuts on her arms and wrists, bruises lacing her neck that look too much like hand prints. The woman is silent, not responding to the medics that speak softly to her. Shuri loses her breath when she realizes that the baby the woman holds has blue-tipped skin -  _ not moving, not breathing _ . She wonders if they didn’t get to her fast enough - if the husband caught word of it and took it out on her - or if this happened before the agents arrived. She wonders if it would’ve happened at all if she didn’t hesitate as long as she did. 

Coulson has to gently lead her through the sea of people, ushering her to continue walking. Even as a hardened agent himself, Shuri can see how much seeing all of this is affecting him too. From the looks of it, it’s affecting everyone.

There’s more people than Shuri expected though, when she starts to really notice how many women and children are there. She still sees a few faces that she saw in church, but there are more unknown faces than known. She glances toward Coulson, who walks beside her silently and solemnly. He catches her questionable look and sighs.

“Some of the houses had more than expected, there’s no way you would have known unless you went to each of their houses personally,” Coulson explains, “Five women were in a basement of one home alone. Multiple wives, we think, but -”

“-But to keep up appearances, only one would’ve been allowed out at a time,” Shuri finishes. It explains why some of the men she saw in town seemed to have a different wife each time she spotted them. “Was there something else going on here that we didn’t expect? Something bigger? This is -”

She doesn’t have to finish her sentence - she couldn’t, really. There isn’t a single word that could describe exactly what is happening around them. But she doesn’t have to finish her thought for Coulson to understand exactly what she means.

“ _ I know.”  _ Coulson’s voice is heavy, “We didn’t expect any of this, we have enough agents, thankfully, but I don’t think we have as many medics and therapists as we really need. There’s talk of setting up a camp for everyone in the meantime, don’t know if it will be in town or out, but I think a lot of these women would benefit from a different environment while we have our people look them over so no one has to go back to the houses that kept them for so long. It’ll be awhile, getting more people out here to help, getting all these families settled down, we don’t even know where we’ll be relocating all of them yet since it’s more than what we planned for. ”

Coulson stops walking, pausing to look toward Shuri, “As for something bigger going on, we  _ don’t know.  _ At least not officially, but Fury suspects that someone somewhere along the line is involved with all the omega human trafficking rings since there’s no way so many of these hicks actually went out of town themselves to find the perfect victim.”

Coulson notices the look in Shuri’s eyes as she frowns -  _ regret, shame, I wasn’t good enough, I should’ve done better, I should’ve helped more.  _ He puts a hand on her shoulder, “You did more than enough Shuri. There’s casualties in every war, but a lot of these victims wouldn’t know freedom at all if not for you.”

She gives him a wry smile that’s faded, not quite genuine, her heart weighing heavy in her chest. “Yes, I suppose you’re right this time.”

As the dust of the chaos settles, she looks him over a bit more carefully, eying the grease of his hair and dirt on his skin, ruffled clothes that have yet to be replaced with the standard suit. She sniffs his shoulder and gags. 

“I think I saved more than just those victims - how long has it been since you’ve had a bloody shower, Coulson?”

“Longer than I’d like to admit,” he answers honestly, “I’m definitely glad that I don’t have to pretend like I’m some crazy lunatic in the woods, that’s for sure. I’m pretty sure that some of the hunting guys were starting to get onto me.”

The lighthearted conversation eases some of the tension on her shoulders before she spots the furious eyes of the Sheriff. The agents guiding him are just loading him into a van, his hands cuffed behind his back but his arms are flexing, wanting to lunge or run. She can see it in the frantic look in his eyes - not fear, like Bucky’s, but that desperate need for survival. He shoves the agents around some, trying to break their hold for a chance to get away, but the agents don’t move an inch, unflinching at his escape attempts.

He spots her and scowls, spewing venom at her with curses and insults that make a few of the surrounding victims flinch and shudder, but it rolls off Shuri’s back as his voice gets muffled by the doors of the van closing him in. She imagines that, in order to keep things quiet, that they had to hold him in his own office until the vans could get into town safely. 

She spots Peggy not too far behind, sobbing on one of the benches with her children. Her makeup is smudged as it begins to run down her face, but she tries her best to hide it in the palms of her hands as she hangs her head down, her shoulders shuddering and hunched over. She struggles to hold her infant son in her lap, torn between holding him and wanting to bury her face away into her hands. Her three-year-old son is cowering beneath her, holding on her legs as he hides under the bench with his eyes clenched tight.

She takes a step forward, wanting to comfort her, but she’s not sure if she’s the person Peggy really wants to see right now. She’s unsure if Peggy is upset over Steve or relieved. It’s a risky shot to go forward, to cause a scene in the middle of the chaos, or to make a grieving wife even more upset.

She takes a deep breath and against the odds, takes one step after another until she’s sitting beside Peggy. She takes the baby that Peggy is struggling to manage on top of the other kids amidst the confusion. She can’t remember the baby’s name, but she coos at him and bounces him on her knees, watching him laugh and grin, blowing happy bubbles with his mouth. 

Peggy jerks up at the sound of his laughter, snapping toward Shuri so suddenly that it’s nearly inhuman. She doesn’t speak for a moment, eyes bristling as she watches her son happily giggle on Shuri’s lap. She glances at Shuri, to her son, back to Shuri, and finally relaxes, the tension leaving her shoulders. 

“Thank you,” Peggy finally speaks up, “Nat got word to me that you were planning on getting some of us out. I thought maybe you were staging a rebellion, hoping we could out number them, or sneak us out a few at a time through the night. I didn’t expect all of this -”

She gestures toward the chaos in the streets that’s starting to calm down as some of the last of the men are taken away. There’s a melancholic peace settling in the air, washing over all of them in an eerie silence that’s only broken by hushed whispers and sirens. Peggy reaches underneath, whispering a few words to her son that seems to calm him down, and picks him up to bring him onto her lap, hugging him close to her chest. He eagerly buries his face into her neck, clunching to her tightly. 

“I - I didn’t know there was so many women hidden away,” Shuri admits, adjusting her grasp on the baby, “So I -”

“-You didn’t know there were so many,” Peggy offers, her voice soft and understanding, “That’s fair. I didn’t catch onto how many of us there were until I was about… six months in, maybe? Caught Steve talking about it with some of ‘em other bastards. It was about the same time that I realized that I would never get to see my family back home again.”

Peggy glances at Shuri, a small but genuine smile on her lips, “You changed that, you know? For a lot of us. The others will take some time, I’m sure, but in the long run, I think we will all be a lot happier.”

Shuri returns the smile, the conversation leaving her feeling more concrete that she did the right thing.  _ I saved them - some will just take a bit longer to realize that. _

* * *

It takes a while for her to finally catch sight of the two faces that she wants to see the most. Nat looks out of place - calm and collected in the midst of crying women around her - sitting down on the curb as she smokes. Shuri can tell immediately that it’s not a cigarette and as more people catch on, the more a few joints get passed around through some of the women who are too tired to be crying anymore. This time, Wanda accepts one of the joints and is leaning against Nat’s shoulder as she blows out the smoke. 

Shuri can see the bruises on Wanda, but her injuries are from the worst among some of the girls that are being loaded into ambulances and being treated by the medics. Still, Shuri is glad to see that Wanda is in better shape than she was when they first met, noting the bruised and irritated red line along her neck in the absence of a collar.

She sits down on the other side of Nat. As Nat holds out a blunt between two fingers, Shuri accepts it, and takes Wanda’s lead, leaning on Nat’s other shoulder. When she doesn’t object, they sit there for a moment in a somewhat peaceful silence, smelling like smoke and herbs, and watching the sirens die out as ambulances leave. 

There’s still agents, Shuri can see, just not nearly as many. There’s scattered throughout the town, talking to a few of the more calmer women and trying to either calm down or restrain some of the more hysterical (yet uninjured) ones. Shuri spots Bucky’s mom waving her finger at one of the agents, who roll their eyes as they try to explain the situation. 

She sees a few more beaten and bruised ones, minor injuries and small cuts that are getting patched up by one of the two medics left on scene. She recognizes one of SHIELD’s top therapists already talking to some of the girls, starting with the more beaten and young ones. When she gets to the fifteen year old child that’s sitting by herself in a corner, holding a baby that can’t be more than seven months old, Shuri has to look away.

“You know,” Wanda’s voice brings Shuri back to her, “I thought I recognized you, but I just didn’t want to believe it. I thought everyone back home had moved on, forgot about me, or had more important things to do. I didn’t think I was at the top of anyone’s priority list.”

Wanda takes a long drag from the blunt and leans back on her hands, giving Nat a break as she looks at the colors of the setting sky - the bright, almost cheerful colors are ironic considering the town that it hovers over.

“Your parents didn’t forget,” Shuri’s lips are in a thin, tight smile, “I just got back from my mission when they put me on your case.”

“Heh,” Wanda snorts, “Glad they waited for you, I don’t think anyone else could’ve pulled it off.”

“Now that I can agree with,” Nat speaks up, “I wasn’t even sure if  _ you  _ could, to be honest. But I didn’t know you were apart of SHIELD. You’re a better liar than I expected.”

Nat seems to second-guess her choice of words, looking at Shuri cautiously, “I - I didn’t mean that as an insult.”

Shuri grins, “Good. I didn’t take it as one. Being a good actor is what makes a good agent. But a good liar is what makes a  _ great _ agent.”

Nat takes a drag, blowing the smoke up toward the sky and away from their faces. Shuri lays down on the cold concrete behind them, smoke from her lips blowing toward the sky in swirls. Wanda is close by on her elbows, leaning back with a content expression on her face. With a shrug, Nat joins them, blowing a bit of smoke over Shuri as she settles with her head in Shuri’s lap, her legs draped across Wanda.

“How does one become that, anyway,” Nat asks, “An agent I mean. Pays decently, I imagine, and I’m going to be needing something to pay for my college tuition once we get done here.”

“You’d have to kill people,” Wanda points out, though she doesn’t sound as concerned, stating it simply and honestly. Nat shrugs at the question, not quite answering it aloud, but making it clear that that aspect of the job doesn’t really bother her anyway.

“It’d be the bad guys you kill,” Shuri corrects, “Save the good ones, get the bad. I don’t really focus on anything else during a mission.”

Nat snorts, “ _ Yeah right, _ I thought Bucky’s vein was going to pop from all of the petty, passive aggressive shit you did at dinner. But I have to commend you for manipulating him like that at church. It’d be nice to get them to really work for you for once. Have that sort of power again.”

A few ashes from the blunt hit her knee as her hands wave as she talks. She doesn’t seem to notice, or care. 

“It would be nice to get that control for once,” Wanda admits, her voice softer than Nat’s abrasive comments, “Not over them, not necessarily, but just have that control for you. The confidence knowing that no one can tell you what to do.”

Shuri grins wildly, “And the best part is you get to punch the ones that do. But if you’re serious about thinking about it, I can talk to Fury. See what he thinks about putting you through training.”

“-Me too,” Wanda adds suddenly, flushing when she realizes just how desperate it sounds. “I mean - can you talk to Fury for me about it? If he says no, I don’t think I can take that rejection in person.”

Shuri hums for a moment, agreeing that she’d do all the talking for them. As the subject dwindles down and stars start to appear in the sky, Shuri wonders just how she can make Fury say yes.

* * *

She trains them, despite the fact that their presence at SHIELD is unofficial. They lack the titles that give the access to everything, not being agents themselves, but Fury allows it with the sworn promise to Shuri that she will be completely responsible for them, come high or hell water. 

She has the pleasure of being their handler, their bodyguard and trained. Their unofficial leader. She took the title and responsibility with grace, easing into the role of as naturally as Fury expected her to.

Nat is a surprise, Shuri has to admit. She knew that Nat could handle the mental aspects, the patience and calmness under the enemy, knowing what to say and when to say it to get out of sticky situations. But the physical prowess, the strength behind her blows, is an unexpected, pleasant surprise. Shuri isn’t sure if the strength behind her fists comes from a form of anger management or if Bruce was such a big guy to warren such strength to get him off.

Wanda takes some more time, with more positive reinforcement. It takes weeks before Wanda stops flinching at every punch thrown her away. A few more to get her to throw one back instead of just dodging. But she’s improving, Shuri notes, and once they got her to throw a few punches, something in Wanda opened up as she started to improve even faster, putting her all into each session.

It’s just a matter of getting Fury to see their potential, to get let them officially become an agent. It isn't as hard as Shuri thought it would be to get Fury to see things her way. Coulson even backed her up. It took a bit of prodding and with a few explanations - Nat’s natural ability to stay calm under pressure and that the power of knowing how to fight back is therapeutic on Wanda’s behalf - Fury eventually caved in. 

She didn’t even have to get Coulson to use his puppy dog eyes on him. 


End file.
